. . .
Everything he had thought of saying and doing vanished out of his
mind.
He stuck his hands into his pockets and descended the staircase.
When he was five or six steps above them, he spoke. "Just sit down
here," he said, with a gesture of one hand, and sat down himself
upon the stairs. "DO sit down," he said with a sudden testiness as
they continued standing. "I know all about this affair. Do please
sit down and let us talk. . . . Everybody's gone to bed long ago."
"Cheetah!" she said. "Why have you come back like this?"
Then at his mute gesture she sat down at his feet.
"I wish you would sit down, Easton," he said in a voice of subdued
savagery.
"Why have you come back?" Sir Philip Easton found his voice to ask.
"SIT down," Benham spat, and Easton obeyed unwillingly.
"I came back," Benham went on, "to see to all this. Why else? I
don't--now I see you--feel very fierce about it. But it has
distressed me. You look changed, Amanda, and fagged. And your hair
is untidy. It's as if something had happened to you and made you a
stranger.
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