“I haven’t any parlour varnish left, Jane. His shoulder was almost touching yours. It was an intentional insult, and that was enough for me. The dog! Still looking at the business romantically?”
His tone was bitter. Her reproach, no doubt justified, cut deeply.
“No, I’m beginning to become a little afraid—afraid that the men may get out of hand. I don’t care what you and your father think, but I believe Cunningham honestly wishes us to reach the Catwick without any conflict.”
“Ah, Cunningham!”
“There you go again—angry and bitter! Why can’t you take it sensibly, like your father?”
“My father doesn’t happen to be——”
He stopped with mystifying abruptness.
“Doesn’t happen to be what?”
“The sort of fool I am!”
“You’re not so good a comrade as you were.”