He removed her hands, but gently, and strolled over to where the table lay spread beside the cold, gilded radiator, a potted geranium in its center, a liberal display of showy imitation pearl-handled cutlery carefully laid out, and at each place a long-stemmed wineglass, gold-edged and the color of amber.
"Come," he said, "let's eat and get it over."
She made no sign, but with the corners of her lips propped bravely upward in her too red smile made a last hurried foray into the kitchen, returning with a covered vegetable-dish held outright from her.
"Guess!" she cried.
"Can't," he said, and seated himself.
"Gowan, guess like you used to, dearie."
He fell immediately to sampling with short, quick stabs of his fork the dish of carmine-red pickled beets beside his plate.
"Aw, gowan, Max, give a guess. What did you used to pay for with six big kisses every time I candied them for you? Guess, Max."
"Sit down," he said, and with his foot shoved a small stool before her chair.
"Lordy!" she said, drawing up en tête-à-tête, unpinning and spreading her lacy train in glory about her, "but you're some little sunbeam to have around the house."