Susceptible to the disappointment in her voice, Jon murmured:
"No, really; thanks."
"A lil cup—it ready. A lil cup and cigarette."
Fleur was gone! Hours of remorse and indecision lay before him! And with a heavy sense of disproportion he smiled, and said:
"Well—thank you!"
She brought in a little pot of tea with two cups, and a silver box of cigarettes on a little tray.
"Sugar? Miss Forsyte has much sugar—she buy my sugar, my friend's sugar also. Miss Forsyte is a veree kind lady. I am happy to serve her. You her brother?"
"Yes," said Jon, beginning to puff the second cigarette of his life.
"Very young brother," said the Austrian, with a little anxious smile, which reminded him of the wag of a dog's tail.
"May I give you some?" he said. "And won't you sit down?"