Sir Axel would have been dull not to surmise that his friend had had recent experience of some such person as she described.
"No, exacting isn't quite the word I want. I mean, they take their own point of view so strongly that it's really a struggle—a downright struggle—to make them see that there may be another."
"I know the sort of fellow. My Scotch gardener's one of 'em."
"Well, I don't know your Scotch gardener, but I do know one or two men of the sort."
"I should think you could stand up for yourself!"
His glance was one of friendly appreciation of her—and of her appearance. She certainly looked well in the firelight.
"Oh, I think I can, but one doesn't want always to be having to do it."
"Not good enough to live with people like that, Lady Rosaline!"
He meant no personal reference, but his companion had little difficulty in finding a personal application. Her eyes wandered from the fire and settled on his face in a meditative gaze.
"Unless, I mean, you were quite sure of coming out on top. And even then—well, I hate rows, anyhow."