"Tea, please, and cake. Can you produce cake?"
"There's a confectioner's just round the corner." He rang the bell.
"Then, madeira. I didn't tell the servant who I was; better say 'my wife' casually when she comes in. I suppose you don't have ladies to tea and madeira cake, as a rule?"
"Not as a rule," he said—"no."
She laughed again, and stretched her shoes to the blaze luxuriously.
"So this is the room. This is where you lived before we knew each other. How funny that it should be the first time I've been in it! I've often imagined you here, and it isn't the least bit like what I fancied, of course; I always saw the window over there! Well, talk to me—tell me all! what you are thinking about? I believe you find me plain now the hat's off!"
Tea was brought to them in about a quarter of an hour, and they sat before the fire sipping it, and stealing glances at each other—the woman's, amused, delicious; Kent's, guilty and tortured. He was tempted to kiss her, but could not bring himself to do it deliberately; and with every phrase that fell from her lips his heart grew; heavier.
"You've scarcely been to Strawberry Hill all the time, I hear," she said. "This is very good tea, Humphrey!"
"Not very often; I've been so busy. Yes, it isn't bad, is it? the landlady gets it for me. Are they offended with me?"
"H'mph! they'll look over it. You'll have to be very nice and repentant."