The servant retired, and they sipped coffee in silence. Isabel presently put hers aside; Asquith then finished his cup at a draught, and walked to a table with it.
“I don’t think you have any excuse left, have you?” he said, leaning over the back of a chair.
“That is a decidedly Oriental way of putting an invitation, Robert.”
He was surprised at the amount of seriousness there was in her tone; she would not raise her face, and her cheeks were coloured.
“Let me be more English, then. Will you give us—give me—the great pleasure of your company, Isabel?”
“But I tell you so clearly that under no circumstances should I leave England just now. It is a little—unkind of you.”
“Unkind? It is not exactly a spirit of unkindness that actuates me. It would do you no end of good, and you will find the people delightful.”
Probably Isabel had by this time made up her mind, but disingenuousness was a mistake on Robert’s part. He only slipped into it because he began to fear that he had really offended her, and the feeling disturbed his self-possession for the moment.
“Thank you,” Isabel said. “I appreciate your kindness at its full, but you must not ask me again. I shall remain at Knightswell till I go to London.”
He made a slight motion of assent with his hand.