Maxine looked round as she made her entry.
"A kettle, Jacqueline?"
"For madame's tea. And, my God, but it is hot!" She set it down hastily in the fireplace, and sucked her finger with a pouting smile.
Maxine smiled, too, coming back from her dream with vague graciousness. "But I do not need tea."
Jacqueline did not refute the statement, but merely began to manipulate the samovar in the manner learned of Max, while Maxine, yielding to her own delicious exaltation, fell again to her long, slow pacing of the floor.
Presently the inviting smell of tea began to pervade the room, and Jacqueline set out a cup and saucer—Max's first purchase from old Bluebeard of the curios.
"Madame is served!" She stood behind the chair ordained for Maxine, very sedate, very assured of her own arrangements.
Maxine paused, as though the suggestion of tea was brought to her for the first time.
"How delightful!" she said, with swift, serene pleasure. "How kind! How thoughtful!"
"Seat yourself, madame!"