“We didn’t agree,” he replied.
“I knew you wouldn’t—not for long, anyhow,” she replied. “I don’t see you agreeing and playing second fiddle for long.”
“Do you see me as a fiddler at all?”
“I’ve seen you fiddling away hard enough many times,” retorted Harriet. “Why, what else do you do, all your life, but fiddle some tune or other?”
He did not reply, and there was a pause. His face was pale and very definite, as if it were some curious seashell.
“What did you get the wind up about, between you?” said Jack soothingly, pouring Somers a glass of beer.
“No wind. We’re only not the same pair of shoes.”
“I could have told you that before you went,” said Jaz with quiet elation in his tones.
Victoria looked at Somers with dark, bright eyes. She was quite fascinated by him, as an Australian bird by some adder.
“Isn’t Mr Somers queer?” she said. “He doesn’t seem to mind a bit.”