“That breaks the ice,” he said.
“If there was ice to break.”
“Well,” he reminded her, “I said I didn’t love and run away, and I did more or less run away. I came one Sunday because I said I would, but I couldn’t do it again. The trouble with me is that I ought to be a journalist, and after about twelve years of it I’m still human.”
“Dubby! I’m sorry!”
“All right, Effie; I didn’t come to bleat. That’s only an apology for not coming before. And now I’m here——”
“You’ll have tea,” she said quickly, going to the bell, but he caught her hand before she pulled.
“Do you want to put a table between us? Do, if you must”—he released her hand—“but I’d hoped it would not come to that. Shall I ring the bell, Miss Mannering?”
“You needn’t punish me by calling names. Don’t ring.” She armed herself with courage, and turned to face him.
“Thanks. Really thanks, Effie. I know I’m a bore, but if the old song has a good tune to it I don’t see why I shouldn’t sing twice. It is a good tune,” he went on with a passion which belied his surface flippancy. “It’s the best I have in me, which mayn’t be saying much, because I’ve a rotten ear for music, but this tune’s got me badly, like the diseases they play on the barrel-organs, and I can’t lose it. I get up to it in the morning, and I go to bed to it at night, and it’s ringing in my ears all day. Effie, I’m not much of a cove and I’ve flattered myself that sincerity departed from me when I cut my wisdom teeth. I tried to live up to that belief and it’s only half come off. I’ve tried to make a raree-show of life, to sit outside and watch the puppets play, and life’s won. Life’s got me down, and I’m inside now. I’m where you’ve put me, and a good place too: I’m near the radiator and it warms the cockles of my heart. But I never liked radiators. Mind you, I can do with them and I can be grateful for them. If a season ticket for life for a seat near the radiator is all that you can give me, I can keep a stiff upper lip and thank you for what I’ve got. But I never had a passion for radiators, and I do like fires. There’s life in a fire Must it be just the radiator, or can you make it hearth and home for us?”
“Dubby,” she said, “I told you before.”