"Surely you're not going to sit up at this hour?"
Ruth had raised her glance from his flannels to his face, which troubled her more.
"I'm afraid the fine weather's at an end," Erskine answered crookedly; "it's most awfully close, at any rate. And I want a pipe."
He proceeded to fill one with his back to her.
"Erskine!"
"Well, dear?"
"I won't be 'dear' to you when you're cross with me. I want to know what I have done to vex you."
He had struck a match, and he lit his pipe before answering. Then he said gently enough:
"If you think I'm cross with you I should run away to bed; I certainly don't mean to be."
But he had not turned round.