that plate." He obeyed without raising his eyes. I carried it
with a knife and fork and a serviette out on the verandah. The
garden was one mass of gloom, like a cemetery of flowers buried in
the darkness, and she, in the chair, seemed to muse mournfully over
the extinction of light and colour. Only whiffs of heavy scent
passed like wandering, fragrant souls of that departed multitude of
blossoms. I talked volubly, jocularly, persuasively, tenderly; I
talked in a subdued tone. To a listener it would have sounded like
the murmur of a pleading lover. Whenever I paused expectantly
there was only a deep silence. It was like offering food to a
seated statue.

"I haven't been able to swallow a single morsel thinking of you out
here starving yourself in the dark. It's positively cruel to be so
obstinate. Think of my sufferings."

"Don't care."

I felt as if I could have done her some violence--shaken her,
beaten her maybe. I said:

"Your absurd behaviour will prevent me coming here any more."

"What's that to me?"

"You like it."

"It's false," she snarled.

My hand fell on her shoulder; and if she had flinched I verily