"Not at all!" said Amy, sarcastically. "Ignore me. Use my studio as your own. Interrupt a conversation with the greatest assurance——"
"Thanks," answered Harry, not troubling to be polite. "I will." His blue eyes had their steel; and his cheerful face its grimness. "Now, Patricia...."
"Now, Harry." Patricia was recovering her nerve. At his insincerity, his rudeness to Amy, her spirits had risen. Whatever secret weaknesses her will might hint, she was sparkling with temper. He had entered a bully; well, she would not be bullied. She saw the difference of his demeanour to Amy, whom he disliked, and to herself, whom he loved. For how long would his behaviour remain different? In Jean Cowley's case it had been a month. "Now, Harry," said Patricia.
Harry's manner softened. His tone was lowered. His possessiveness was subtly mingled with appeal. He took a step forward, a big figure with bared teeth and that ready smile. There was no doubt of the effect he had on Patricia. She felt herself small, weak, laughing.... And yet not now yielding. A day ago she would have been yielding, tasting all the sweetness of surrender to such masterful treatment.
"Put your coat on," pleaded Harry. He wore none himself. "I want you to come and have a meal with me."
"It's barely tea-time," objected Patricia.
"All the better. We'll have tea and dinner as well."
They both ignored Amy, who stood angrily staring at them.
"Why should she?" cried Amy. "What cheek!"
Harry turned upon Amy, and laughed at her.