Do you understand?"
He nodded.
"That's right."
She stepped to the cupboard, produced the tea and a box of matches;
then, stooping down, rekindled the fire with the help of some sticks
which she found in the oven, and put the kettle on the flame.
This done, she sought and found the tea-things.
"Milk?" she asked.
He nodded towards a blue jug on the mantel-shelf.
"Milk on the mantel-shelf! That's like a man."
But at this point the kettle began to boil. She filled the tea-pot,
and replaced the kettle on the hob. As she turned, she was aware of
a clearer look in Mr. Fogo's eyes. She smiled and nodded.
"You are better."
"Much. I can remember it all, after a fashion. Did I talk
nonsense?"
"A little." She smiled again.
His eyes followed her as she moved about the kitchen. Presently he
said--
"You are very good to me."
"I think I am."
"Tamsin--"
She turned suddenly to the table, and caught up the teapot.
"Do you know," she asked, "that tea is worthless if it stands for
more than five minutes?"
She filled a cup, and gave it to him with a hand that trembled
slightly. He sipped, and scalded his lip.
"Tamsin--"
"My name is Dearlove," she said shortly, "and you are spilling the
tea."
There was silence for a minute or so.
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