These aren’t painted—they’re anger.
ONFROY
With Clarissa Henbane, as usual?
FANNY
Please don’t take liberties, Mr. Onfroy.
ONFROY
When I take liberties with you, Lydia Languish, I condescend. (Pointedly turning his back) Anger?
MAGNUS (chuckling)
And women love him for it; they love him, the coxcomb! They used to pay him five thousand dollars, less for their portraits than for the slangings he gave them—(this while Mrs. Felix explains to Onfroy in undertone)
FANNY (pale with rage)