"Oh. Shall I enlighten you?"
"Thank you."
"She's Mary Cliff, of the Follies. I've seen her dance."
"Really," he said carelessly.
Stephanie leaned against the desk, resting one hand on it. An odd sense of mental fatigue possessed her; things were not clear in her mind; she was not very sure of what she was saying:
"I came up to say—that I'm sorry we quarrelled.... I'm sorry now that I came. I'm going in a moment.... You've already had tea, I see. So you won't care for any more."
After a flushed silence, he said:
"Did you have a successful lesson, Steve?"
"I've had two—lessons. Yes, they were quite—successful."
"You seem tired."