“Neither.”
“Then prove it by taking this chair. Thus. Near the fire, for it is quite an English spring. A footstool. Is it permitted to admire your slippers—what there is of them? Now you look comfortable.”
He attended to her wants, divined them, and perhaps created them with a perfect grace and much too intimate a knowledge. As a carpet knight he was faultless. And Etta thought of Paul, who could do none of these things—or would do none of them—Paul, who never made her feel like a doll.
“Will you not sit down?” she said, indicating a chair, which he did not take. He selected one nearer to her.
“I can think of nothing more desirable.”
“Than what?” she asked. Her vanity was like a hungry fish. It rose to everything.
“A chair in this room.”
“A modest desire,” she said. “Is that really all you want in this world?”
“No,” he answered, looking at her.
She gave a little laugh and moved rather hurriedly.