“I would rather not.”
“Oh, come! You are a pale Iseult to-day.”
“Thank you, I would rather not.”
“Then Adolf shall make us coffee.”
He rang the bell.
“Adolf, coffee and some biscuits! And bring that purple scarf of mine.”
The scarf arrived first, and Massinger held it spread over his hands like a shop-assistant showing off a length of silk.
“Two little white empresses shall wear the purple. No work this afternoon. I am going to try to make you forget the weather.”
Adolf came in noiselessly with the coffee, set it on a stool beside Eve, and departed just as noiselessly, and with an absolutely expressionless face. The way he had of effacing himself made Eve more conscious of his existence.
The fire was comforting, so was the coffee. She could have slipped into a mood of soothed indolence if Massinger had not been present. But his leering obsequiousness had disturbed her, and she found herself facing that eternal problem as to how a woman should behave to a man who employed her and paid for her time. Was it necessary to quarrel with all this sentimental by-play? She still held to her impression that he was a very great ass.