"I can tell you what that colour is, at least. Do you remember the blue, transparent substance that used to be on favours at children's parties?" he asked. "There were caps inside of them, and crackers."
"I believe you are a poet, after all," she said.
A shadow fell across the flags. Honora did not move.
"Hello, Chiltern," said Cuthbert. "I thought you were playing bridge…"
"You haven't looked at me once to-night," he said, when Cuthbert had gone in.
She was silent.
"Are you angry?"
"Yes, a little," she answered. "Do you blame me?"
The vibration of his voice in the moonlit court awoke an answering chord in her; and a note of supplication from him touched her strangely. Logic in his presence was a little difficult—there can be no doubt of that.
"I must go in," she said unsteadily, "my carriage is waiting."