It was the man this time who was silent.
"If you wish to stay," went on the girl monotonously, "do so; but for once and all do away with acting. We're neither of us good, we're both living a lie; but at least we understand each other. Let's not waste energy in pretending—when there's no one to be deceived."
Just for a second the man stiffened. The histrionic was too much a part of his life to shake off instantly. Then he laughed.
"All right, Bess. I owe you another apology, I suppose. Anyway be it so. And now, that I'm to stay—" A meaning glance through the open door. "You were working, weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Go ahead, then, and I'll find something to sit on and watch. You remember another morning once before, don't you—a morning before you grew up—"
"Perfectly."
"We'll fancy we're back there again, then. Come."
"I am quite deficient in imagination."
"At least, though, dishes must be washed."