ind out in the
morning.

And presently she too slept.

CHAPTER IX

IN the morning Lord Holme woke very late and in a different humour. Lady
Holme was already up, sitting by a little table and pouring out tea,
when he stretched himself, yawned, turned over, uttered two or three
booming, incohorent exclamations, and finally raised himself on one arm,
exhibiting a touzled head and a pair of blinking eyes, stared solemnly
at his wife's white figure and at the tea-table, and ejaculated:

"Eh?"

"Tea?" she returned, lifting up the silver teapot and holding it towards
him with an encouraging, half-playful gesture.

Lord Holme yawned again, put up his hands to his hair, and then looked
steadily at the teapot, which his wife was moving about in the sunbeams
that were shining in at the window. The morning was fine.

"Tea, Fritz?"

He smiled and began to roll out of bed. But the action woke up his
memory, and when he was on his feet he looked at his wife again more
doubtfully. She saw that he was beginning, sleepily but definitely,
to consider whether he should go on being absolutely furious about the
events of the preceding night, and acted with promptitude.

"Don't be frightened," she said quickly. "I've made up my mind to
forgive you. You're only a great schoolboy after all. Come along."

She began to pour out the tea. It made a pleasant little noise falling
into the cup. The sun was wonderfully bright in the pretty room, almost
Italian in its golden warmth. Lady Holme's black Pomeranian, Pixie,
stood on its hind legs to greet him. He came up to the sofa, still
looking undecided, but with a wavering light of dawning satisfaction in
his eyes.

"You behaved damned badly last night," he growled.

He sat down beside his wife with a bump. She put up her hand to his
rough, brown cheek.

"We both behaved atrociously," she answered. "There's your tea."

She poured in the cream and buttered a thin piece of toast. Lord Holme
sipped. As he put the cup down she held the piece of toast up to his
mouth. He took a bite.

"And we both do the Christian act and forgive each other," she added.

He leaned back. Sleep was flowing away from him, full consciousness of
life and events returning to him.

"What made you speak to that feller?" he said.

"Drink your tea. I don't know. He looked miserable at being avoided,
and--"

"Miserable! He was drunk. He's done for himself in London, and pretty
near done for you too."