He looked her straight in the face, saw all that had seemed almost a miracle to her—the softened wrinkles, the recovered colour of her hair.
“Yes, I think you do,” he said. “You’ve got a bit tanned too, haven’t you, with the sun?”
The cold fingers closed a little more tightly on her.
“Have I?” she said. “That is very likely. I was out-of-doors all day. I used to take quite long walks every afternoon.”
He glanced at the menu-card.
“I hope you’ll like the dinner I ordered you,” he said. “Your cook and I had a great talk over it this morning. ‘She’ll have been in the train all day,’ I said, ‘and will feel a little tired. Appetite will want a bit of tempting, eh?’ So we settled on a grilled sole, and a chicken and a macédoine of fruit. Hope that suits you, Amy. So you used to take long walks, did you? Is the country pretty round about? Bathing, too. Is it a good coast for bathing?”
Again he looked at her as he spoke, and for the moment her heart-beat quickened, for it seemed that he could not but see the change in her. Then his sole required dissection, and he looked at his plate again.
“I believe it is a good coast,” she said. “There were a quantity of bathing-machines. I did not bathe.”
“No. Very wise, I am sure. One has to be careful about chills as one gets on. I should have been anxious about you, Amy, if I had thought you would be so rash as to bathe.”
Some instinct of protest prompted her.