He came over to put his arm round her.
“After breakfast. It is too early for anything except tea.”
“That cup which does not inebriate. I wish to Heaven it would or could inebriate you. You might be less cold, less—”
“Married.”
“You speak as though you expected this—as though this phase of ours is not new to you. Is it a phase?”
“I do not know. I fear—oh, Jack, why is it?”
This cry for information was at least human.
“It is this detestable flat system. Let us go and live in a house—with stairs,” said Jack.
She laughed.
“How amusing. The stairs would not make me—or you—different.”