Eve kept very still. She had an abrupt glimpse of the meaning of his suggestions, and of all that was moving towards her in this man’s mind. Intuition told her that she would rebuff him more thoroughly by treating him as a sentimental idiot than by flattening him with anger, as if he were a man.
“Please don’t do that. It’s foolish, and makes me want to laugh. I think it’s time we were serious. I am ready for work.”
For an instant his eyes looked sulky and dangerous.
“What a practical person it is.”
“And what a long time you have taken to find that out. I’m afraid I’m not in the least sentimental.”
Hugh Massinger went back to the lounge like a cat that has been laughed at.
CHAPTER XXVIII
CANTERTON’S COTTAGE AND MISS CHAMPION’S MORALITY
Three days before Christmas, Eve spent a quarter of an hour in a big toyshop in quest of something that she could send Lynette, and her choice came to rest upon a miniature cooking-stove fitted with a three-trayed oven, pots and pans, and a delightful little copper kettle. The stove cost her a guinea, but it was a piece of extravagance that warmed her heart.