"I'm not too warm," she said at length, feebly but obstinately resisting Mrs Clayton Vernon's command. This, to speak bluntly, was an untruth. She was too warm.
"Are you sure that nothing is the matter?" urged Mrs Clayton Vernon, justifiably alarmed by the expression of her visitor's features. "I beg you to confide in me if—"
"Not at all," said Mrs Swann, trying to laugh. "I'm only sorry to disturb you. I didn't mean to disturb you."
"What on earth is that?" cried Mrs Clayton Vernon.
The other potato, escaping Mrs Swann's vigilance, had run out of the muff and come to the carpet with a dull thud. It rolled half under Mrs Swann's dress. Almost hysterically she put her foot on it, thus making pulp of the second potato.
"What?" she inquired innocently.
"Didn't you hear anything? I trust it isn't a mouse! We have had them once."
Mrs Clayton Vernon thought how brave Mrs Swann was, not to be frightened by the word "mouse."
"I didn't hear anything," said Mrs Swann. Another untruth.
"If you aren't too warm, won't you come a little nearer the fire?"