"They're a pair of father's. I took them specially for you for this
room. You haven't got any slippers like that."

He gazed upon the heels downtrodden by her heavy father. He did not much
like her heavy father. "No, I haven't," he said, and thought grimly,
"Thank God!"

"But, Mark, what do you mean, you can't stick 'den'?"

He explained laughingly. He ended, "It's just like lounge hall. Lounge
hall makes me feel perfectly sick. You're not going to call the hall a
lounge hall, are you?"

She was quite serious and the least little bit put out. "No--I'm not.
But I can't see why. I've never heard such funny ideas."

He was vaguely, transiently surprised at her attitude towards his funny
ideas. "Well, come on, let's see upstairs."

"Yes, let's, dear."

He stepped out, and she closed the door after them. "Well, that's your
den."

As if he had never spoken! A vague and transient discomfort shot through
him.


VII