"I'll never say again that women aren't logical," answered Lawrence, smiling in spite of himself.
"No—don't. Have some more tea."
"Thanks—I've not finished. It's too hot to drink."
Thereupon, his good temper returning, he desisted from self-torture by scalding, and set the cup down. Fanny watched him, but turned her eyes away as he looked up and she met his glance.
"I'm so glad you've come," she said quietly. "I've looked forward to it."
Perhaps she was a little the more ready to say so, because she was inwardly conscious of having rather wilfully teased him, but she meant what she said. Lawrence felt his heart beating again in a moment. Resting his elbow on his knees, he clasped his hands and looked down at the pattern of the rug under his feet. She did not realize how easily she could move him, not being by any means a flirt.
"It's nothing to the way I've looked forward to it," he answered.
She was silent, but he did not raise his head. He could see her face in the carpet.
"You know that, don't you?" he asked, in a low voice, after a few moments.
Unfortunately for his information on the subject, the butler appeared just then, announcing a visitor.