"Do you mean to say those awful people downstairs have stolen my Herald again?"
"I left it there. I want to talk ... I've got to talk to you, can't you see?"
"What's the matter?"
Her eyes were in his. He couldn't see her, only her eyes, grey like the sea.
"Well, Wenny, we must have breakfast first. Have you patched it up with your family?" The words were elaborately emotionless, clinking, rounded like the cups and saucers she was putting on the tray. He was out of the trembling husk of his body looking at himself, hating, out of her grey eyes. When she leaned to take the tray he could see a faint coppery down on her neck under the dressing gown. To kiss her there.
He let himself fall heavily into a chair. She set the tray on the little table by the window.
"One or two? Of course you want two, don't you, Wenny? What fun to breakfast like this, you and me."
Wenny took a gulp of coffee.
"For God's sake don't be so casual.... It's hideous." The coffee choked him. He coughed. "Nan, I'm crazy about you."
"Now, Wenny, you haven't come here so bright and early to make love to me," she said with a hurried, nervous laugh.