One thing was apparent, however: he was better dressed than she ever remembered seeing him, better pulled together, and bearing himself with an air of purpose.
"I've fetched back your handkerchief--you tied up my head with it, you know," he said, taking it from his pocket.

"I'm going away, and I wanted to thank you." "Will you not come in, monsieur ?" she said.
He readily entered the kitchen, still holding the handkerchief in his hand, but he did not give it to her.

"Where will you sit ?" she said, looking round.

"I'm very busy.

You mustn't mind my working," she added, going to the brass bashin at the fire.