'That is what I came to explain,' he said.
He passed her standing at the table, and went towards the fire. There he drew off his gloves in a peculiarly thoughtful manner.
'Theo,' said Brenda, 'have you had breakfast?'
'Yes, thanks!'
His manner was habitually misleading, and it was quite impossible for her to see that he had bad news to impart. His strong, purposeful hands were always steady, which is somewhat exceptional; for the fingers betray emotion when the eyes are dumb.
'Rather,' she continued lightly, 'than break my faith to you, I planted myself, so to speak, among the wallflowers, where I was content to bloom in solitude.'
'Through the whole dance?' he asked meaningly.
'Well ... not quite. When I was satisfied that you were not there, I danced with someone else.'
He smiled, and said nothing.
Brenda moved one or two things upon the breakfast-table—things which in no way required moving. For the first time in her life she was beginning to feel ill at ease with this man. For the first time she dreaded vaguely to hear him speak, because she was not sure that he was at ease himself.