"On the mantelshelf!" said she.
"What is?"
"Your pipe!"
"Thank you!" said I, and reached it down.
"What are you reading?" she inquired; "is it of Helen or Aspasia
or Phryne?"
"Neither--it is the parting of Hector and Andromache," I answered.
"Is it very interesting?"
"Yes."
"Then why do your eyes wander so often from the page?"
"I know many of the lines by heart," said I. And having lighted
my pipe, I took up the book, and once more began to read. Yet I
was conscious, all the time, of Charmian's flashing needle, also
she had begun to hum again.
And, after I had endeavored to read, and Charmian had hummed for
perhaps five minutes, I lowered my book, and, sighing, glanced
at her.
"I am trying to read, Charmian."
"So I see."
"And your humming confuses me."
"It is very quiet outside, Peter."
"But I cannot read by moonlight, Charmian."
"Then--don't read, Peter." Here she nibbled her thread with
white teeth, and held up what she had been sewing to view the
effect of a bow of riband, with her head very much on one side.
And I inwardly wondered that she should spend so much care upon
such frippery--all senseless bows and laces.
"To hum is a very disturbing habit!" said I.
"To smoke an evil-smelling pipe is worse--much worse, Peter!"
"I beg your pardon!" said I, and laid the offending object back
upon the mantel.
"Are you angry, Peter?"
"Not in the least; I am only sorry that my smoking annoyed you
--had I known before--"
"It didn't annoy me in the least!"
"But from what you said I understood--"
"No, Peter, you did not understand; you never understand, and I
don't think you ever will understand anything but your Helens and
Phrynes--and your Latin and Greek philosophies, and that is what
makes you so very annoying, and so--so quaintly original!"
"But you certainly found fault with my pipe."
"Naturally!--didn't you find fault with my humming?"
"Really," said I, "really, I fail to see--"
"Of course you do!" sighed Charmian. Whereupon there fell a
silence between us, during which she sewed industriously, and I
went forth with brave Hector to face the mighty Achilles. But
my eye had traversed barely twenty lines when: "Peter?"