He repeated it several times.
She watched him wander oddly about the room, thinking aloud rather than
speaking to her. How different he had become. For the first time it
dawned upon her that the whole look of the man had undergone a change.
He held himself with less affectation. His petulance had gone. He was
like a Gilbert Palgrave who had been ill and had come out of it with
none of his old arrogance.
He took up a cigarette and began wandering again, muttering her
unfortunate word. She was sorry to have hurt his feelings. It was the
very last thing that she had wanted to do. "Aren't there any matches?"
she asked. "Ring for some."
She was impatient of indecision.