The callow brutality roused her sense of humor. She removed her hat and ran her hands through hair which glistened like burnished chestnuts in the firelight. She smiled as she caught his eyes resting upon it unwillingly.
“What have women done to you?” she inquired softly.
He gave her a quick, menacing look.
“You are tyrants, all of you,” he sneered savagely. “Greedy for everything. For money, flattery, love, especially love. Insatiable! Demanding, always demanding but—I promised you tea, I believe.” He finished somewhat lamely, and striding to the cupboard produced a tin, a loaf of bread and some butter.
She looked at him from beneath inscrutable lashes.
“I’m sorry you’re unhappy,” she said simply.
“We are all unhappy,” he evaded. He poured water into the dingy kettle hanging over the fire. “You are unhappy because you are wet, and like a civilized lady want your tea. I am unhappy because my head aches most damnably! For me there is no help but time, but for you there is orange pekoe.”
She laughed.
“For a soulless creature like a woman there is always food, eh?” she teased. “But a masculine intellect demands only spiritual sustenance?”
He laughed more naturally, as he met her mocking glance. “I must seem an awful fool to you,” he said somewhat sheepishly.