Her finger was tapping the table. She saw that he regarded it and dropped her hand to her knee. It was the hardest moment since their first trial together. It did not seem to belong to her. They had needed no laws. They were human adults. They were a universe apart in the same house. It hurt him to the core—such words from her. Many times of late the sense of his own smallness had come, but he had never fallen so little that he could not ignore a sham of this kind.
"I did not think of that. We seemed to be under a law of our own—"
"But the others," she said steadily.
"You mean Nadiram?"
"Yes—you see I have the office—"
"Ah, yes—the office.... I shall go to the Rest House, of course. Shall I go to-night—or to-morrow morning?"
"To-morrow morning."
"Very well."
She was whiter than ever. There was no word at all at breakfast. Bamban came for the bags.
"Please," he said, as he was leaving, "don't fail to use me. We are not enemies. Do you know—it is hard for us to remember—that all there is between us is a difference of opinion—each for the other's good. We cannot go far astray that way. Please use me. The days are so long."