He looked at her, evidently enjoying her unaccustomed discomfiture. "Obviously."
"Sorry!" she said briefly, and turned away.
She began, somewhat viciously, to straighten the little candles on the tree. As well as one knew Stephen one still could not get to the bottom of him. He might be in love with Valerie; he might have grown out of love with her; he might even be merely obstinate. But fool enough to whistle a fortune down the wind from mulishness? No man would be fool enough for that, thought Mathilda cynically. She glanced sideways at him, and thought, Yes, you would; you'd be fool enough for anything in this mood. Like my bull-terriers: bristling, snarling, looking for trouble, always convinced you've got to fight, even when the other dog wants to be riendly. Oh, Stephen, why will you be such an ass?
She looked at him again, not covertly this time, since his attention was not on her, and saw that he was watching Valerie, whom Joseph had drawn into one of the window-embrasures. He was not quite smiling, but he seemed to Mathilda to be enjoying some hidden jest.
She thought, Yes, but you're not an ass; I'm not at all sure that you're not rather devilish, in fact. You're cold-blooded, and you have a twisted sense of humour, and I wish I knew what you were thinking. Then another thought flashed across her mind, startling her: I wish I hadn't come here!
As though in answer, Paula said suddenly: "O God, how I hate this house!"
Stephen yawned. It was Roydon who asked: "Why?"
She detached the stub of her cigarette from its long holder, and threw it into the fire. "I can't put it into words. If I said it was evil, you'd laugh."
"No, I shouldn't," he said earnestly. "I believe profoundly in the influence of human passions on their surroundings. You're tremendously psychic: I've always felt that about you."
"Oh, Willoughby, don't!" implored Valerie, instantly distracted from her tete-d-tete with Joseph. "You make me feel absolutely ghastly! I keep thinking there's something just behind me all the time."