‘Do you think she smoked?’ asked Monica laughingly.

’We have debated that point with much interest.  She was a person of advanced ideas, as you see; practically a communist.  But I doubt whether honeydew had any charms for her personally.  It seems more probable that some milkman, or baker’s assistant, or even metropolitan policeman, benefited by her communism.’

Indifferent to the progress of time, Bevis talked on with his usual jocoseness, now and then shaking his tawny hair in a fit of laughter the most contagious.

‘But I have something to tell you,’ he said at length more seriously.  ’I am going to leave England.  They want me to live at Bordeaux for a tune, two or three years perhaps.  It’s a great bore, but I shall have to go.  I am not my own master.’

‘Then your sisters will go to Guernsey?’

‘Yes.  I dare say I shall leave about the end of July.’

He became silent, looking at Monica with humorous sadness.

‘Do you think your sisters will soon be here, Mr. Bevis?’ Monica asked, with a glance round the room.

’I think so.  Do you know, I did a very silly thing.  I wanted your visit (if you came) to be a surprise for them, and so—­in fact, I said nothing about it.  When I got here from business, a little before three, they were just going out.  I asked them if they were sure they would be back in less than an hour.  Oh, they were quite sure—­not a doubt about it.  I do hope they haven’t altered their mind, and gone to call somewhere.  But, Mrs. Widdowson, I am going to make you a cup of tea—­with my own fair hands, as the novelist say.’

Monica begged that he would not trouble.  Under the circumstances she had better not stay.  She would come again very soon.

‘No, I can’t, I can’t let you go!’ Bevis exclaimed, softening his gay tone as he stood before her.  ’How shall I entreat you?  If you knew what an unforgettable delight it will be to me to make you a cup of tea!  I shall think of it at Bordeaux every Saturday.’

She had risen, but exhibited no immutable resolve.

‘I really must go, Mr. Bevis—!’

’Don’t drive me to despair.  I am capable of turning my poor sisters out of house and home—­flat and home, I mean—­in anger at their delay.  On their account, in pity for their youth, do stay, Mrs. Widdowson!  Besides, I have a new song that I want you to bear—­ words and music my own.  One little quarter of an hour!  And I know the girls will be here directly.’

His will, and her inclination, prevailed.  Monica sat down again, and Bevis disappeared to make the tea.  Water must have been already boiling, for in less than five minutes the young man returned with a tray, on which all the necessaries were neatly arranged.  With merry homage he waited upon his guest.  Monica’s cheeks were warm.  After the vain attempt to release herself from what was now distinctly a compromising situation, she sat down in an easier attitude than before, as though resolved to enjoy her liberty whilst she might.  There was a suspicion in her mind that Bevis had arranged this interview; she doubted the truth of his explanation.  And indeed she hoped that his sisters would not return until after her departure; it would be very embarrassing to meet them.