Her tone struck him; and he watched her attentively, out of the comer of his eyes. He did not understand her, but he was pleased that she had come. She was tired now, from excitement and travelling; but he thought that she looked most charming, even though she was not so brilliant as on that night, at Mrs. Uxeley's ball, when he had first spoken to his divorced wife.
"Are you tired?" he asked.
"I have been a bit feverish for a day or two; and, of course I had no sleep last night," she said, as though in apology.
The trunk was brought and they drove away, to the Hôtel Continental. She did not speak again in the carriage. They were also silent as they entered the hotel and in the lift. He took her to his room. It was an ordinary hotel-bedroom; but she thought it strange to see his brushes lying on the dressing-table, his coats and trousers hanging on the pegs: familiar things with whose outlines and folds she was well-acquainted. She recognised his kit-bag in a corner.
He opened the windows wide. She had sat down on a chair, in an expectant attitude. She felt a little faint and closed her eyes, which were blinded by the stream of sunlight.
"You must be hungry," he said. "What shall I order for you?"
"I should like some tea and bread-and-butter."
Her trunk arrived; and he ordered her breakfast. Then he said:
"Take off your hat."
She stood up. She took off her cape. Her cotton blouse was rumpled; and this annoyed her. She removed the pins from her hat before the glass and quite naturally did her hair with his comb, which she saw lying there. And she settled the silk bow around her collar.