"You may talk now," he said, as he put on the kettle.
"Thanks. But there isn't anything to say," said Anna.
"Does that make any difference?" he asked, with an unexpected smile that propitiated her; and she came down and offered to cut the bread and butter. He shook his head, and possessed himself of the loaf.
"Stay where you are, I'll look after this. Women always make it taste of the knife! Hullo! offended again? I'm sorry, but you know they do."
"They don't in in the other Anna's flat. But you've never been there, of course; and I suppose you'll never go, will you?"
"Depends on the other Anna, doesn't it? Do you think she'd have me?"
"I'm quite certain she would," said his model, with such assurance that a less absorbed person would have suspected something of the truth. As it was, he only looked slightly amused and asked for a reason.
"Oh, because Anna always likes odd people who don't talk much; and she doesn't think them musty or anything like that, just because they're not usual. She'd call you interesting, and quarrel with every one who didn't agree with her, and be frightfully glad all the while because they didn't."
"Sugar?" asked Askett, who had again not been listening.
"Two lumps, please. So do you, don't you? I knew you would! So does Anna. I think you'd like Anna too, rather."
"Ah! What makes you think that?"
"Well, you've got some sense of humour, enough to know she wasn't really laughing at you. Most people are afraid of her, you know; and they think she doesn't feel things because she laughs; and of course she does feel them all the same. She hates people
