"Of course I did. Anne will bring the tea in a minute."

Even in the darkened room, I could not help seeing that Mrs.
Strickland's face was all swollen with tears. Her skin,
never very good, was earthy.

"You remember my brother-in-law, don't you? You met at dinner,
just before the holidays."

We shook hands. I felt so shy that I could think of nothing
to say, but Mrs. Strickland came to my rescue. She asked me
what I had been doing with myself during the summer, and with
this help I managed to make some conversation till tea was
brought in. The Colonel asked for a whisky-and-soda.

"You'd better have one too, Amy," he said.

"No; I prefer tea."

This was the first suggestion that anything untoward
had happened. I took no notice, and did my best to engage
Mrs. Strickland in talk. The Colonel, still standing in front
of the fireplace, uttered no word. I wondered how soon I could
decently take my leave, and I asked myself why on earth Mrs.
Strickland had allowed me to come. There were no flowers,
and various knick-knacks, put away during the summer, had not been
replaced; there was something cheerless and stiff about the
room which had always seemed so friendly; it gave you an odd
feeling, as though someone were lying dead on the other side
of the wall. I finished tea.