“I am being spoilt,” said Brent.
That was exactly what she wanted him to feel. The memory of this evening was to have a particular significance.
“You amazed me to-day.”
She was pouring out his coffee.
“I never saw a man work with such ferocity.”
“I enjoyed it.”
“Yes, but you must not work too hard. And I am not going to talk to you until after supper.”
“Talking is food,” said Brent, “if one happens to be interested.”
Now Manon’s attitude towards Brent had developed since she had realized how easily he could be affected by the swaggering cynicism of a man like Louis Blanc. Hitherto she had not been conscious of any particular attitude towards this comrade of two days. The adventure had opened with such verve and simplicity that she had not bothered her head about the social complexities, but the coming of Bibi and Paul’s instant reaction to the challenge in the big Frenchman’s sensual eyes had compelled her to look at Brent more closely. She guessed that he had a thin skin, and that he was the sort of good fellow who fell into a panic if anyone accused him of behaving like a blackguard. Like many sensitive men he was extraordinarily diffident. An audacious beast like Bibi would squeeze out all his self-confidence.
“What a comfort it is to have you here.”