"On the mantelshelf!" said she.
"What is?"
"Your pipe!"
"Thank you!" said I, and reached it down.
"What are you reading?" she inquired; "is it of Helen or Aspasia or
Phryne?"
"Neither—it is the parting of Hector and Andromache," I answered.
"Is it very interesting?"
"Yes."
"Then why do your eyes wander so often from the page?"
"I know many of the lines by heart," said I. And having lighted my pipe, I took up the book, and once more began to read. Yet I was conscious, all the time, of Charmian's flashing needle, also she had begun to hum again.