"Not quite," said Jake.
He bent slightly as she entered, stretched out a hand, took her by the chin, and kissed her mask-like face.
She endured his action with the most complete show of indifference, neither returning nor avoiding his caress. A faint, faint tinge of colour showed in her cheeks as with scarcely a pause she passed on into the room; that was all.
"It is getting late," she observed. "I think you had better go."
Jake's eyes, red-brown and shining, followed her with a masterful expression as she moved to the table and laid down her flowers, marking the queenly bend of her neck, the cold majesty of her pose.
He said nothing for the moment, merely took his pipe out of his pocket and began to fill it.
Maud went to the sideboard for a vase. Her movements were very measured, very stately. She did not so much as glance towards the man who watched her. The old quick nervousness of manner had gone utterly from her. She was like a marble statue endued with a certain icy animation.
"You don't look exactly--excited," remarked Jake, as he finally stuck his pipe into his mouth.
She smiled, a cold, aloof smile, saying nothing.
He lighted his pipe, his eyes still upon her. "Say, Maud," he said, between the puffs, "why don't you come too?"