She did not say it to herself in so many words but something within her cried out: "You are unjust, your obstinacy blinds you; lend an ear to all that can throw light on this matter; do not refuse any longer to learn the facts."
Lorimer was punctual to the minute. As the clock struck four, he walked into the studio. He found Dora in the same dress which she had worn in the morning, but he noticed that her hair was differently arranged, and that her very simple mourning robes yet possessed an air of elegance. In her whole appearance there was something which revealed a woman who had retained a consciousness of her beauty.
Lorimer seemed in gayer mood than ever. Dora noticed it at once, and the good spirits of her old friend insensibly roused a response in her.
Hobbs brought in the tea, and Dora poured out two cups.
Lorimer took a piece of cake, drank his cup of tea, and asked for a second. He helped himself to another slice of cake, and drank his second cup of tea with evident relish.
"Another cup?" said Dora.
"With pleasure; your tea is delicious, and tea to me is a life-saving liquid, a sovereign remedy for numberless ills. No washerwoman sips her bohea with greater gusto. It is tea that revives me after fatigue, tea that stimulates me when I am at work, tea that cheers me in desponding moments. Long live tea!"
"You must not overdo your devotion," said Dora.
"Oh, my dear friend," rejoined Lorimer, "you must not overdo anything, if it comes to that—you allow a cigarette?"
"I allow two; have you a light?"