The fire, too, had burnt low.

He came forward, and then went back again and switched on the lamps; and, with the blaze, Zara sat up and rubbed her eyes.

One great plait of her hair had become loosened and fell at the side of her head, and she looked like a rosy, sleepy child.
"I did not see you!" Tristram gasped, and, realizing her adorable attractions, he turned to the fire and vigorously began making it up.
Then, as he felt he could not trust himself for another second, he rang the bell and ordered some tea to be brought, while he went to his room to leave his overcoat.

And when he thought the excuse of the repast would be there, he went back.
Zara felt nothing in particular.

Even yet she was rather on the defensive, looking out for every possible attack.
So they both sat down quietly, and for a few moments neither spoke.
She had put up her hair during his absence, and now looked wide-awake and quite neat.
"I had a most unlucky day," he said--for something to say.