"I should be most happy, if I thought--"
"If you thought you were not intruding," said Miriam. "You are not doing that, I assure you. See, I will give your flowers the place of honour on my tea-table. But perhaps you are not a tea-drinker--perhaps----"
"Oh, yes, I am. Only I never can bear to drink tea alone. I think it a great promoter of sociability, and I only indulge in it when I have some one to keep me company."
"Then come and keep me company for once," said Miriam, with a smile, her magnificent eyes looking full into his face.
He shrank a little before that full-orbed gaze. For a moment or two the colour left his lips. He smiled faintly, and rubbed his hands together, as though he were cold.
"If I had the inclination to refuse--which, indeed, I have not," he said, "it would be impossible for me to do so after such an invitation. I can quite imagine that your life here is a little dull at times," he added, as he drew a chair up to the table.
"It certainly cannot be called a very lively one," returned Miriam, as she began to pour out the tea. "Poor dear papa is both very old and very feeble, and then his deafness is a great drawback, and makes home duller than it would otherwise be."
"But you have a brother, have you not?"
"Yes, one brother."
"In the city?"