“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. ’ She had given nothing away. He was profoundly stirred. And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used.
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