He got up and followed her awkwardly, with a sullen face and a childishly beating heart. The kettle was already on the gas, and Francey gazing into an open cupboard that was scarcely smaller than the kitchen itself.
"It's like a boy's chemist shop," she said casually, as though she had expected him, "with the doses done up in little white paper packets. Is it a game, Robert?"
"A sort of game. We used to use too much of everything, and at the end of the week there'd be nothing left. So we doled it out like that."
"Yes, I see. A jolly good idea. That way you couldn't over-eat yourselves."
"I—I suppose you think I was an awful beast about the tea, don't you?"
"No, I didn't—I don't."
"I was—much firmer than I would have been, but I wanted you to stay.
So I couldn't give in."
"If it had been just Cosgrave and Miss Edwards?"
"It wouldn't have mattered—not so much."
"I wasn't hurt. It was tactless of me. But I wanted the tea. I forgot. And I wanted to stay, too. I haven't learnt to do without things that I want."