"The dearest and kindest woman in London," said Vane with a smile to Joan. "Since the days of my callow youth Mrs. Green has watched over me like a mother. . . ."
"I expect he wanted some watching too, Mrs. Green," cried Joan.
Mrs. Green laughed, and set down the tea. "Show me the young gentleman that doesn't, Miss," she said, "and I'll show you one that's no manner of use to anybody. . . ."
She arranged the plates and cups and then with a final—"You'll ring if you want more butter, sir"—she left the room.
"Think of it, Joan," said Vane. "Ring if you want more butter! Is it a phrase from a dead language?" He pulled up a chair. . . . "Will you preside, please, and decant the juice?"
The girl sat down and smiled at him over the teapot. "A big, fat tea," she murmured, "with lots of scones and Devonshire cream. . . ."
"I thought you suggested talking about rather less dangerous topics," said Vane quietly. Their eyes met, and suddenly Vane leaned forward. "Tell me, grey girl," he said, "did you really mean it when you said the last game was very nearly even?"
For a moment she did not answer, and then she looked at him quite frankly. "Yes," she said; "I really meant it. I tell you quite honestly that I had meant to punish you; I had meant to flirt with you—teach you a lesson—and give you a fall. I thought you wanted it. . . . And then. . . ."
"Yes," said Vane eagerly. . . . "What then?"
"Why—I think I changed my mind," said the girl. "I didn't know you were such a dear. . . . I'm sorry," she added after a moment.