The change of tone as she spoke to him was too subtle for Justin’s ear; but Oliver looked across at her with sudden curiosity.
“Why—why——” he began.
“Florence even provides for donkeys, doesn’t she, Mr. Seton?” Laura nodded to him with the ingenuous air that he was beginning to suspect. But Justin interrupted.
“I think,” he meditated paternally, “it’s rather rot for you to go mistering Oliver. He knew you when you were a kid—isn’t it, Mother?” He turned to Mrs. Cloud and so missed Laura’s frown.
But Oliver was quicker.
“I say, Justin!” he exclaimed, “she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t like me. Quick! Look at her! Did you ever see anything so hostile?”
Justin turned to the inspection. And Laura, naturally, grew scarlet. She was furious. It was so perfectly true.... She couldn’t bear the man.... A type she detested.... A caricature of herself.... But if she didn’t like him, it was no business of his to find it out.... It was cheek to challenge her in that way ... to make her look a fool.... She wouldn’t stand it....
Here Oliver, watching her delightedly, fanned the flame.
“There—the colour—d’you see? Now isn’t that interesting? Because everybody likes me, don’t they, Justin? don’t they, Mrs. Cloud? And now, I remember, you sniffed at my stuff this morning. I saw you in the glass. Now why, Miss Valentine, now why?”
“Oh, what nonsense!” That, of course, is what she should have said. That, she knew perfectly well, is what she should have said. But the politenesses had gone from her. She answered like the furious child she was.