"I am doing nothing, lying here."
"I find that is what the people say who are doing too much. Extremes meet,—as usual."
He lifted Diana up, and piled pillows and cushions at her back till she was well supported. Nobody could do this so well as Basil. Then he brought the tray and arranged it before her. There was a bit of cold partridge, and toast; and Basil filled Diana's cup from a little teapot he had set by the fire. The last degree of nicety was observable in all these preparations. Diana ate her supper. She must live, and she must eat, and she could not help being hungry; though she wondered at herself that she could be so unnatural.
"Where could you get this bird?" she asked at length, to break the silence which grew painful.
"I caught it."
"Caught it? You! Shot it, do you mean?"
"No. I had not time to go after it with a gun. But I set snares."
"I never knew partridges were so good," said Diana, though something in her tone said, unconsciously to her, that she cared not what was good or bad.
"You did not use your advantages. That often happens."
"I had not the advantage of being able to get partridges," said Diana languidly.