"I have, dear."
"Yes, a bit of bread. Come, eat! You'll be ill if you don't."
She tried to obey. Tears began to trickle down her face.
"What's the use of going on like that?" Lashmar exclaimed, petulantly rather than in anger. "You're tired to death. If you really can't eat anything, better go to bed. We shall see how things look in the morning."
Iris rose and came towards him.
"Thank you, dear, for speaking so kindly. I don't deserve it."
"Oh, we won't say anything about that," he replied, with an air of generosity. Then, laughing, "Aren't you going to show me the study?"
"Dyce! I haven't the heart."
She began to weep in earnest.
"Nonsense! Let us go and look at it. I'll carry the lamp."