"Dot!" said Jeff very softly.
"That's better." Again her voice quivered upon a laugh. Her arms slackened from his shoulders, and instantly his fell away, setting her free. She rose to her feet, yet lingered a moment, bending slightly over him, her eyes very bright.
But Jeff did not move, and with a half-sigh she turned away. "Would you like to carry the teapot?" she said.
He got up.
"And you can hang up this coat of yours," she added. "I'll come in a moment."
She watched him go in his slow, strong fashion; then for a few still seconds she stood quite tense with hands tightly gripped together. What passed within her during those moments only her own heart ever knew, how much of longing, how much of regret, how much of earnest, quivering hope.
She followed him almost at once as she had promised.
The parlour door was open. She came to it in her light, impetuous way. She halted on the threshold.
"Jeff!" she said. "Come here!"