She looked over his shoulder as the man entered and placed a lamp on the table; and when he had retired she stepped across the room and snapped it out.
“I don’t know why you called for it,” she said. “Was it to tint the proprieties?”
“I suppose so,” he replied, regarding her, “but I’m afraid it won’t.”
“No, it won’t. I’m going to sit in your seat here by the window; pull another beside it.”
He did as he was told, and she laid her arms limply along those of the chair, leaned back and sighed.
“Don’t you know why I’m here?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“I’m going away.”
“From what?”
“From the Court, and my husband, and his excellent father, and everything! I’m sick of it all.”