Mr. Tappenham did not answer her. He sat looking at the shape, and seemed to be listening intently.
“Shall I go on?” she inquired.
Mr. Tappenham took no notice.
“What’s the matter with him?” thought Mlle. Claire. “I shan’t go on if he’s not listening.”
Assuming her pretended voice again, she said, “I will try to forgive. Farewell, farewell!” and, with a merry, boisterous laugh, she displaced the arrangement which produced the illusion, and said to Mr. Tappenham:
“Now are you satisfied?” Then she added, in a tone of surprise, “Whatever is the matter?” For, as she looked, the expression of his face changed from attention to surprise, from surprise to uneasiness. He turned to her and said, with a forced smile, “It’s too clever—a sight too clever. That’ll do; stop it, please.”
“Stop it?”
“Yes. I’ve had enough. It’s—it’s damned absurd, but it’s getting on my nerves. Stop it, I say—stop it!” His voice rose at the end almost into a cry.
“Why, I have stopped it this three minutes!” she answered in surprise.