Gerda watched him in silence for a moment or two; and then, extinguishing the remains of her cigarette against the edge of her empty soup-plate, she said to him, quite naturally and quietly:

“Wolf darling, just run upstairs, will you, and see if I left my candle burning? I want to wash up before we go to bed.”

He stared at her in bewilderment, blinking his eyes. Then he lifted his hand to his mouth and held it there⁠—held it to hide that trick he had, when he was at the limit of his endurance, of working the muscles of his lower jaw.

Gerda calmly rose from her seat and began gathering together the things on the table. “ Do run up and put out that candle, Wolf,” she repeated. “We don’t want a fire in our house.”