"Which?"
"Which? Do you know you haven't been near me for two months?"
He laughed uneasily. "I couldn't be near you when I was away."
"Never said you could. But what did you go away for?"
"Business."
"Too busy to write, I suppose?"
"Much too busy."
She rose, and with one hand on his shoulder steered him into the front room.
"Sit down," she said. "And don't look so sulky. I want to talk to you sensibly."
He sat down where he had sat that night two months ago, on the Polar bear skin. She sat down too, with a sweeping side-long movement of her hips that drew her thin skirts close about her. She contemplated the effect a little dubiously, then with shy nervous fingers loosened and shook out the folds. He leaned back, withdrawn as far as possible into the corner of the divan. The associations of the place were unspeakably loathsome to him.