The little white hand left off stroking the dark fur and reached out to him. He took it and held it tight. It struggled to withdraw itself.
"You aren't afraid of me?" he said.
"No, but I'm afraid of Partridge coming in and seeing us. He might think it rather odd."
"He won't come in. It doesn't matter what Partridge thinks."
"Oh, doesn't it!"
"He won't come in."
He drew a little closer to her.
"He will. He will. He'll come and clear away the things. I hear him coming."
He got up and went to the door of the smoke-room, to the further door, and looked out.
"There's no one there," he said. "They don't come 'till six and it isn't five yet…. Elise—abstract your mind one moment from Partridge. If I get that little house in London, will you live in it?"