He was like a Gilbert Palgrave who had been ill and had come out of it with none of his old arrogance.
He took up a cigarette and began wandering again, muttering her unfortunate word.

She was sorry to have hurt his feelings.

It was the very last thing that she had wanted to do.

"Aren't there any matches ?" she asked.

"Ring for some." She was impatient of indecision.
He drew up and looked at her.