Gerald turned away. There were one or two new pictures in the room, in
the Futurist manner; there was a large piano. And these, with some
ordinary London lodging-house furniture of the better sort, completed
the whole.

The Pussum had taken off her hat and coat, and was seated on the sofa.
She was evidently quite at home in the house, but uncertain, suspended.
She did not quite know her position. Her alliance for the time being
was with Gerald, and she did not know how far this was admitted by any
of the men. She was considering how she should carry off the situation.
She was determined to have her experience. Now, at this eleventh hour,
she was not to be baulked. Her face was flushed as with battle, her eye
was brooding but inevitable.

The man came in with tea and a bottle of Kummel. He set the tray on a
little table before the couch.

'Pussum,' said Halliday, 'pour out the tea.'

She did not move.

'Won't you do it?' Halliday repeated, in a state of nervous
apprehension.

'I've not come back here as it was before,' she said. 'I only came
because the others wanted me to, not for your sake.'

'My dear Pussum, you know you are your own mistress. I don't want you
to do anything but use the flat for your own convenience--you know it,