She stood, a fixture, on the threshold of his room, without even resolution enough to beat a retreat.

Helplessly, and with a little quaver in her voice, she repeated obstinately: "I was making some tea, and I thought you would like to have a cup of tea." Her agitation betrayed itself in the repetition of the word.

She felt that she could not hold the tray out another instant.

Already she was trembling so that half the tea was spilled.
Old Grannis still kept silence, still bending forward, with wide eyes, his hands gripping the arms of his chair.
Then with the tea-tray still held straight before her, the little dressmaker exclaimed tearfully: "Oh, I didn't mean--I didn't mean--I didn't know it would seem like this.

I only meant to be kind and bring you some tea; and now it seems SO improper.