Millicent smiled.
"It really was foolish. But you must have some tea and wait until she comes. I don't think she will be long. She has gone out with Mrs. Foster."
The tea was brought in and Millicent studied Blake unobtrusively as he sat opposite her at the small table. He had grown thin, his bronzed face was worn, and he looked graver. She could not imagine his ever becoming very solemn, but it was obvious that something had happened in Canada which had had its effects on him.
Looking up suddenly, Blake surprised her attentive glance.
"You have changed," she said.
"That's not astonishing," Blake laughed. "We didn't get much to eat in the wilds, and I was thinking how pleasant it is to be back again." He examined his prettily decorated cup. "It's remarkable how many things one can do without. In the bush, we drank our tea, when we had any, out of a blackened can, and the rest of our table equipment was similar. But we'll take it that the change in me is an improvement?"
It was an excuse for looking at her, as if demanding a reply, but she answered readily.
"In a sense, it is."
"Then I feel encouraged to continue starving myself."
"There's a limit; extremes are to be avoided. But did you starve yourselves in Canada?"