Only the tick-tack of the tall clock and the splashing of the Twins disturbed it.

She turned to glance at him once, and then, seeing his gaze fixed upon the fire that twinkled on the rim of his spectacles and emphasised the hollows of his face, had looked for a moment more boldly before she bent over her task again.
"She is quite beautiful, but--" He spoke in a dreamy abstracted tone, as if addressing the pot-hooks.
Tamsin started, set down the pan with a clatter, and turned sharply round.
"Eh ?" said Mr.Fogo, aroused by the clatter, "you were saying-- ?" And then it struck him that he had spoken aloud.

He broke off, and looked up with appealing helplessness.
There was a second's pause.
"_You_ were saying--" The words came as if dragged from her by an effort.

Her eyes were full of wrath as she stood above him and waited for his reply.
"I am very sorry," he stammered; "I never meant you to hear." "You were talking of-- ?" "Of you," he answered simply.

He was horribly frightened; but it was not in the man's nature to lie, or even evade the question.
The straightforwardness of the reply seemed to buffet her in the face.