He made a movement to help her off with her coat, but she stopped him,
and he didn't insist, guessing that she supposed her blouse to be unfit
for publication.

She sat down on the sofa, and leaned back, looking at him with her
pretty, weary, dreary, young, blue eyes.

'It seems such a long time since I saw you,' said Vincy. 'You're tired;
I wish I had a lift.'

'I am tired,' she spoke in rather a hoarse voice always. 'And I ought
not to stop long.'

'Oh, stay a minute longer, won't you?' he asked.

'Well, I like that! I've only just this moment arrived!'

'Oh, Mavis, don't say that! Have some tea.'

He waited on her till she looked brighter.

'How is Aunt Jessie?'

'Aunt Jessie's been rather ill.'

'Still that nasty pain?' asked Vincy.

She stared at him, then laughed.