"Would you care for a--a book--or anything?" she asked, aware of a new
constraint in her voice.
"I don't believe I could see to read in here.... Are you--going?"
"I--ought to." Vexed at the feeble senselessness of her reply she found
herself walking down the landing, toward nowhere in particular. She
turned abruptly and came back.
"Do you want a book?" she repeated.
"Oh, I forgot that you can't see to read. But perhaps you might care to
smoke."
"Are you going away?"
"I--don't mind your smoking."
He lighted a cigarette; she looked at him irresolutely.
"You mustn't think of remaining," he said. Whereupon she seated herself.
"I suppose I ought to try to amuse you--till Ferdinand returns with a
plumber," she said.