It was written the day before, and said that he supposed he, Tristram, would get it eventually; that Zara had had a very sad bereavement which he felt sure she would rather tell him about herself, and that he trusted, seeing how very sad and ill she had been, that Tristram would be particularly kind to her.
So her uncle knew, then! This was incredible: but perhaps Zara had told him, in her first grief.
He glanced up at her; she was lying back in a great leather chair now, looking so fragile and weary, he could not say what he intended.

Then Jake rose leisurely and put his two fat forepaws up on her knees and snorted as was his habit when he approved of any one.

And she bent down and kissed his broad wrinkles.
It all looked so homelike and peaceful! Suddenly scorching tears came into Tristram's eyes and he rose abruptly, and walked to the window.

And at that moment the servants brought the teapot and the hot scones.
She poured the tea out silently, and then she spoke a little to Jake, just a few silly, gentle words about his preference for cakes or toast.
She was being perfectly adorable, Tristram thought, with her air of pensive, subdued sorrow, and her clinging black dress.
He wished she would suggest going to her room.

He could not bear it much longer.
She wondered why he was so restless.