d into her eyes, but she held them back, fearing they would
further contribute to the undoing of her looks.

When the tea was brought, she made the waiter wheel the table to the
fire; she also took off her cloak and hat and smoothed her hair in the
glass. She put the toast by the fire in order to keep it warm. She
wanted everything to be comfortable and home-like for her lover. She
then poked the fire into a blaze and moved a cumbrous arm chair to a
corner of the tea table. When Perigal came in, he was smoking a
cigarette.

"Trying to work up a domestic atmosphere," he laughed, with a faint
suggestion of a sneer in his hilarity.

Mavis bit her lip.

"It was the obvious thing to do. Don't be obvious, little Mavis. It
jars."

"Won't you have some tea?" she faltered.

"No, thanks. I've ordered something a jolly sight better than tea," he
said, warming his hands at the fire.

Mavis was too stunned to make any comment. She found it hard to believe
that the ardent lover of Polperro and the man who was so indifferent to
her extremity, were one and the same. She felt as if her heart had been
hammered with remorseless blows. They waited in silence till a waiter
brought in a bottle of whisky, six bottles of soda water, glasses, and
a box of cigarettes.

"Have some whisky?" asked Perigal of Mavis.

"I prefer tea!"

"Have some in that?"

"No, thank you."

While Mavis sipped her tea, she watched him from the corner of her eyes
mix himself a stiff glass of whisky and soda. She would have given many
years of her life to have loved him a little less than she did; she
dimly realised that his indifference only fanned the raging fires of
her passion.

"I feel better now," he said presently.

"I'm glad. I must be going."

"Eh!"

Mavis got up and went to get her hat.

"I wish you to stay for dinner."

"I'm sorry. But I must get back," she said, as she pinned on her hat.

"I wish you to stay," he declared, as he caught her insistently by the
arm.

The touch of his flesh moved her to the marrow. She sat helplessly. He
appeared to enjoy her abject surrender.

"Now I'll have some tea, little Mavis," he said.

She poured him out a cup, while he got the toast from the fender to
press some on her. He began to recover his spirits; he talked, laughed,
and rallied her on her depression. She was not insensible to his change
of mood.

When the tea was taken away, he pressed a cigarette on her against her
will.

"You