Her eyes avoided his instinctively. They were more nearly alone together at this moment than they had been since their brief interview that morning at the Davenants' flat. It seemed weeks ago to Chris already.
"Have you tried?" he asked.
"No."
He did not make the obvious rejoinder, but glanced again at his writing, added something, and put it away. Then, with his usual deliberation of movement, he left his seat and came over to her side.
She had a moment of desperate shyness as he sat down. "Don't let me interrupt you," she said nervously.
He ignored the words, as if he considered them foolish "I should like you to get a little sleep," he said. "You have had a long day. Look at that fellow over there, setting the good example."
"He hasn't so much to think about," said Chris, with a smile that quivered in spite of her.
"Are you thinking very hard?" he asked.
"Yes." She brought out the word with an effort, for suddenly she wanted to cry again, and she was determined to keep back her tears this time.
He made no comment, but sat and looked at the blank darkness of the window.