Here was a new Lily indeed, who dared to claim that she could manage somebody of whom Sylvia must be afraid. She challenged Lily to say when she had ever known her to flinch from an encounter with a man.
“But, my dear, Manuel isn’t English. When he’s in one of those rages he’s not like a human being at all. You can’t soothe him by arguing with him. You have to calm him without talking.”
“What do you use? A red-hot poker?”
Lily became agitated at Sylvia’s obstinacy, and, regardless of her jewels, which tinkled down into a heap on the floor, she jumped out of bed and implored her not to stay.
“I want to know one or two things before I go,” Sylvia said, and was conscious of taking advantage of Lily’s alarm to make her speak the truth, owing to the lack of time for the invention of lies.
“Do you love this man?”
“Yes, in a way I do.”
“You could be happy married to him?”
“Yes, when I’ve won five thousand pounds.”
“He cheats for you?”