“I don’t see why it matters,” he said indignantly, “whether there is a curtain or a three foot wall between us. Remember we are brother and sister. Honour and decency are better protectors than bolts and bars.”
With this fine sentiment he disposed of her objections. There was no doubt he thoroughly believed it; and when he retired more or less weary behind his curtain, he slept as calmly as if he were alone in the room.
On this particular morning, having slept late and well, he rose light-heartedly, singing as he dressed. When he entered that part of the room that served them in common, he found that Margot had set his breakfast on the table, and was preparing to go to market. She was dressed like the women of the country, with a shawl over her bright hair. Each morning she would ask him:
“What would you like for lunch?”
“Oh, anything; I don’t care.”
“No, don’t say you don’t care. You know I like to please you.”
Then he would think profoundly. “I tell you what, ... Give me ... a surprise.”
With a gesture of despair she would go away. She was rather a good cook, but he seldom noticed what he ate. Now he stopped her as she was going out. “Had your breakfast?”
“Oh, yes, long ago.”
“I wish you would call me in the morning so that we can take it together. I like you to talk to me while I’m eating. Sit down and talk now. You’re not in such a hurry. Come, take a cigarette.”