Albans?" She bustled about, and
lit the spirit-lamp under the kettle.
"Blow out that match!" he cried. "You'll set your dress on fire!" He
caught her hand, which she was holding with the lighted match in it
at her side, after the manner of women with lighted matches, and
blew it out himself.
"Oh, thank you!" she said indifferently. "Can you take it without
milk?"
"Yes, I like it so."
She got out two of the cups he remembered, and he said, "How much
like last winter that seems!"
And "Yes, doesn't it?" she sighed.
The lamp purred and fretted under the kettle, and in the silence in
which they waited, the elm tree that rose from the pavement outside
seemed to look in consciously upon them.
When the kettle began to sing, she poured out the two cups of tea,
and in handing him his their fingers touched, and she gave a little
outcry. "Oh! Madeline's precious cup! I thought it was going to
drop!"
The soft night-wind blew in through the elm leaves, and their
rustling seemed the expression of a profound repose, an endless
content.
XXXI.
The next night Lemuel went to see Statira, without promising himself
what he should say or do, but if he were to tell her everything, he
felt that she would forgive him more easily than 'Manda Grier. He
was aware that 'Manda always lay in wait for him, to pierce him at
every undefended hint of conscience.
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