But it was only a film over her fire.

He, with ruffled hair, was sulking upon the sofa.

She sat down opposite, in the armchair, and neither spoke.

The clock ticked in the silence like blows.
"You are a little cat, Beat," he said at length, half apologetically.
"Well, you shouldn't be brazen," she replied.
There was again a long silence.

He whistled to himself like a man much agitated but defiant.