They sat facing each other across the tea table.
“I did not say, nor imply, a satellite. I meant two single equal stars balanced in conjunction—”
“You gave yourself away, you gave away your little game completely,” she cried, beginning at once to eat. He saw that she would take no further heed of his expostulation, so he began to pour the tea.
“What good things to eat!” she cried.
“Take your own sugar,” he said.
He handed her her cup. He had everything so nice, such pretty cups and plates, painted with mauve-lustre and green, also shapely bowls and glass plates, and old spoons, on a woven cloth of pale grey and black and purple. It was very rich and fine. But Ursula could see Hermione’s influence.
“Your things are so lovely!” she said, almost angrily.
“I like them. It gives me real pleasure to use things that are attractive in themselves—pleasant things. And Mrs Daykin is good. She thinks everything is wonderful, for my sake.”
“Really,” said Ursula, “landladies are better than wives, nowadays. They certainly care a great deal more. It is much more beautiful and complete here now, than if you were married.”
“But think of the emptiness within,” he laughed.