“You know of course what happened?” said Harriet.
“Er—when?”
“When Lovat went to see Mr Cooley.”
“Er—no.”
Again that peculiar Australian no, like a scorpion that stings with its tail.
“Didn’t Mr Cooley tell you?” cried Harriet.
“No.” There was indescribable malice in the monosyllable.
“Didn’t he—!” cried Harriet, and she hesitated.
“You be quiet,” said Lovat crossly, to her. “Of course you’d have to rush in.”
“You think angels would fear to tread in such a delicate mess?” said Harriet, with a flash of mocking wit that sent a faint smile up Jack’s face, like a red flame. His nose, his mouth were curiously reddened. He liked Harriet’s attacks. He looked at her with dark, attentive eyes. Then he turned vaguely to Somers.