Joseph felt depressed. He had a charming little anecdote to tell, about the time he had played Benedick, in Sydney, but it didn't seem as though Roydon would appreciate it. A conceited young man, thought Joseph, dispiritedly eating his savoury.
When Maud rose from the table, Paula was obliged to stop telling Nathaniel about Roydon's play. She glowered at being interrupted, but went out with the other women.
Maud led the way to the drawing-room. It was a big room, and it felt chilly. Only two standard-lamps, placed near the fireplace, lit it, and the far corners of the room lay in shadow. Paula gave a shiver, and switched on the ceiling-lights. "I hate this house!" she said. "It hates us, too. You can almost feel it."
"Whatever do you mean?" asked Valerie, looking round half-fearfully, halt-sceptically.
"I don't know. I think something happened here, perhaps. Can't you feel how sinister it is? No, I suppose you can't."
"You don't mean that it's haunted, do you?" Valerie asked, her voice rising slightly. "Because nothing would induce me to spend a night here, if it is!"
"No, I don't mean that," Paula answered. "But there's something about it - I'm always conscious of it. Cigarette, Mathilda?"
Mathilda took one. "Thank you, my love. Shall we gather round the fire, chicks, and tell ghost stories?"
"Oh, don't!" shuddered Valerie.
"Don't let Paula impress you!" Mathilda advised her. "She is just being fey. There's nothing wrong with this house."