“Is that a promise?”
“Good heavens, do you want me to swear to it?”
“I want you to play fair. That's all.”
She leaned back again among her pillows and gathered her papers.
“All right,” she said, indifferently. “Have you any preference as to color for your rooms in the new house?”
He was sorry for his anger, and after all, these things which seemed so unimportant to him were the things that made up her life. He smiled.
“You might match my eyes. I'm not sure what color they are. Perhaps you know.”
But she had not forgiven him.
“I've never noticed,” she replied. And, small bundle of samples in her hand, resumed her reading and her inspection of textiles.
“Good night, Natalie.”