looking at the window, vaguely lit by reflections from the street.
Basil came back, as she had known he would; wrapped in his blue dressing-gown, he sat down on the side of her bed, and began:
"You must admit you spoiled the dinner to-night."
"No—did I?" said Teresa sleepily.
"You know you did! Not only your aunt—perhaps that was an accident—but I've asked you a dozen times to get another cook, and yet you will keep"
"Oh, Basil, you think cooks grow on blackberry bushes! You must admit she gave us a delicious lunch, and it's rather a trial to have three other guests shot in unexpectedly for dinner"
"You're so soft about her! If you gave her a good hauling over now and then she might do better"
"Basil, you're an idealist."
"Yes, that's right, joke about it! Much you care how things go on, and whether I'm uncomfortable or not. You don't care a damn for me, that's the truth. To-day you wouldn't come and pose to oblige me, you preferred to spend the afternoon with Dallas"
"I had an engagement with him."
"You might have come afterwards."
"I couldn't. I was feeling too ill."
