That was all.

He wanted to launch out into the tale which he had meant to tell her,
but she cut him short.

"Since when do I demand excuses, Richard? You come and there you are.
And if you don't come, I have to be content too." "You should really
be a little less tolerant," he warned her.

"A blessed lot it would help me," she answered merrily.

Gently she took his arm and led him to his old place. Then silently,
and with that restrained eagerness that characterised all her actions
she busied herself with the tea-urn.

His critical and discriminating gaze followed her movements. With
swift, delicate gestures she pushed forward the Chinese dish, shook
the tea from the canister and poured the first drops of boiling water
through a sieve.... Her quick, bird-like head moved hither and
thither, and the bow of the orange-coloured ribbon which surrounded
her over-delicate neck trembled a little with every motion.

"She really is the most charming of all," such was the end of his
reflections, "if only she weren't so damnably sensible."

Silently she took her seat opposite him, folded her white hands in her
lap, and looked into his eyes with such significant archness that he
began to feel embarrassed.

Had she any suspicion of his infidelities?