'Precious glad I didn't!' said Beaufort. 'Good for her, but poor fun for me, Connie.'
Connie got up and came round the table. 'You're spilling all your ash on the tablecloth.' She gave him an ash-tray from the mantel-piece. 'Use that, silly,' said she, patting his shoulder, and she went on, 'Any woman could manage you all right, you know. Oh, I don't mean a goose like Trix Trevalla, but——'
'A clever girl like yourself, eh?'
'Well, that's the last thing I was thinking about. Still, as far as that goes, I expect I could.'
He slewed his chair half round and looked up at her. Her rollicking defiance, with its skilful hint of contempt, worked on his mood. He forgot his daylight reluctance to commit himself.
'We'd see about that, Miss Connie,' he said.
'Oh, I shouldn't be afraid!' she laughed. She spoke the truth; she was not the least afraid of Beaufort Chance, though she was more than a little afraid of Mrs. Fricker. She was at the same time fully aware that Chance would like to think that she was in her heart rather afraid; she gauged him nicely, and the bravado of her declaration was allowed to be hinted at by a fall and a turning-away of her eyes. With a confident laugh he slipped his arm round her waist; she drew away; he held her strongly.
'Be quiet,' he said imperiously.
She stood still, apparently embarrassed but yet obedient.