"It certainly makes no difference to you whether you are rude or not."
He shrugged his shoulders, said nothing, and smoked in silence. One thin leg was crossed over the other and swung restlessly.
"Is this sort of thing to last forever?" she inquired coldly, after a silence which had lasted a full minute.
"I do not know what you mean," said Reanda.
"You know very well what I mean."
"This is insufferable!" he exclaimed, rising suddenly, with his cigar between his teeth.
"You might take your cigar out of your mouth to say so," retorted Gloria.
He turned on her, and an exclamation of anger was on his lips, but he did not utter it. There was a remnant of self-control. Gloria leaned back in her chair, and took up a carved ivory fan from amongst the knick-knacks on the little table beside her. She opened it, shut it, and opened it again, and pretended to fan herself, though the room was cool.
"I should really like to know," she said presently, as he walked up and down with uneven steps.
"What?" he asked sharply.