He made no reply, but looked at the small, steady flame of the lamp. She followed his eyes, and, when he saw that she was looking at it too, he said:
“Isn’t a little, steady flame like that beautiful?”
She laughed.
“When it means tea—yes. Does it mean tea?”
“If you can wait a few minutes.”
“I suppose I must. Have you heard anything of Mr. Carey?”
Robin looked at her narrowly.
“What made you think of him just then?”
“I don’t know. Being here, I suppose. He often comes here, doesn’t he?”
“Then this room holds more of his personality than of mine?”