"But to-night you're tired."
"Never mind. I must have the coffee."
She poured it out and drank it.
"I believe you live very much in the present," he said.
"Well—you live very much in the future."
"Do I? What makes you think so?"
"My instinct informs me of the fact, and of other facts about you."
"You'll make me feel as if I were made of glass if you don't take care."
"Live a little more in the present. Live in the present to-night."
There was a sound of insistence in her voice, a look of insistence in her bright blue eyes which shone out from their painted shadows, a feeling of insistence in the thin and warm white hand which now she laid upon his. "Don't worry about the future."