CHAPTER XXXII
TENSION
When the sisters came back from their drive Harry was sitting on the little marble terrace reading Count Florio and Phillis K. and smoking cigarettes. With almost conjugal unfairness he complained that Valentia always went out just before he arrived. In fact, he had begged her to get the visit over that afternoon, as he intended to be late.
Valentia sat down and began a lively account of "The Angles," but he implored her not to describe those awful people at home, and particularly not to tell him anything about that poisonous Belgian. Then he told Val that blue didn't suit her, and, when she agreed with him, petulantly complained that she had no ideas of her own.
"But I had an idea of my own; only now you say it's wrong."
"So it is. But, even if it is wrong, you should stick to it. You should have more individuality."
"What an awful word," she said.
"What's the matter with the word?"