She gave him a long look before answering. "No, don't." Her voice shook a little, her composure was less perfect.
Harry was no novice; the break in the voice did not escape him. He marked it with a thrill of triumph; it told him that she was not merely playing with him; he was holding his own, he had his power. The fight was equal. He rose to his feet and stood facing her, both of them by the mantelpiece.
"I don't want you to say anything about this to Vivien, because it's not definite yet. If the opportunity were offered to me, don't you think I should be wise to accept?"
"Are you in love with him?" He looked in her eyes. "No, you can't be!"
"Your standard of romance is so high. I like him—and perhaps I don't like looking out for another situation." Her tone was lighter; she seemed mistress of herself again. But Harry had not forgotten the break in her voice.
"Have you considered that this arrangement—"
"Which we have supposed—"
"Would make you my mother-in-law?"
"Well, your stepmother-in-law. That doesn't sound quite so oppressive, I hope?"
"They both sound to me considerably absurd."