“What did Paul say?”
“Paul? Oh, yes—How’d I get switched off onto Briggs? Why, Paul didn’t say anything; that was what made me see he wasn’t taking it right. He just sat still and listened and listened till it made me feel foolish. I thought he’d jolly me back, you know. He’s usually a great hand for that. And then when I looked at him I saw he looked as black as a thundercloud—that nasty look he has when he’s real mad. When we were children and he’d look that way, I’d grab up any old thing and hit him quick, so’s to get it in before he hit me. Well, I was awfully sorry, and I said, ‘Why, hold on a minute, Paul, let me tell you—’ but he said he guessed I’d told him about enough, and before I could open my mouth he dropped off the car. We’d got in as far as Hayes Avenue. I wanted to explain, you know, that the Frenchman was old enough to be our grandfather!”
“When did this happen?”
“Oh, I don’t know; three or four days ago—why, Thursday, it must have been, for after I got through with Briggs I went on to that—”
“And this is Monday,” said Lydia; “four days.”
At the sight of her sister-in-law’s troubled eyes, Madeleine was again overcome with facile remorse. She clapped her on the shoulder hearteningly. “I’m awfully sorry, Lyd, but don’t you go being afraid of Paul. You’re too gentle with him, anyhow. A married woman can’t afford to be. You have to keep the men in their places, and you can’t do that if you don’t knock ’em the side of the head once in so often. It’s good for ’em. Honest! And about this, don’t you worry your head a minute. Like as not Paul’s forgot everything about it. He’d forget anything, you know he would, if an interesting job came up in business. And if he ever does say anything, you just laugh and tell him about old Thingamajig’s white hair and pop eyes, and he’ll laugh at the joke on himself.”
Lydia drew back with a gesture of extreme repugnance. “Don’t talk so—as though Paul could be so—so vulgar.”
Madeleine laughed. “I guess you won’t find a man in this world that isn’t ‘vulgar’ that way.”
“Why, I’ve been married to Paul for years—he wouldn’t think I—no matter what you told him, he couldn’t conceive of my—”
Mrs. Lowder, as usual, found her brother’s wife very diverting. “Of your doing a little hand-holding on the side? Oh, go on! Flirting’s no crime! And you did—honest to goodness, you did, turn that old fellow’s head. You ought to have seen the way he looked after you.”