MOIRA TALKED GAYLY
They took their coffee by the embers of the fire. The light from the great north window had long since expired and the mellow glow of the candles flickered softly on polished surfaces.
Suddenly Moira stopped talking and realized that as she did so silence had fallen. Her companion had sunk deep into his chair, his gaze on the gallery above, a frown tangling his forehead. She glanced at him quickly and then looked away. Something was required of him and so,
"Why have you done all this for me?" he asked gently.
She smiled and their glances met.
"Because—because——"
"Because you thought it a duty?"
"No——," easily, "it wasn't really that. Duty is such a tiresome word. To do one's duty is to do something one does not want to do. Don't I seem to be having a good time?"
"I hope you are. I'm not likely to forget your charity—your——"