He said: "We'll eat and forget the rest of this, if you want, Jack."
"And you ain't mad at me, Pierre?"
"Not a bit."
There was just a trace of coldness in his tone, and she knew perfectly why it was there, but she chose to ascribe it to another cause.
She explained: "You see, a woman is just about nine-tenths fool, Pierre, and has to bust out like that once in a while."
"Oh!" said Pierre, and his eyes wandered past her as though he found food for thought on the wall.
She ventured cautiously, after seeing that he was eating with appetite: "How does the pin look?"
"Why, fine."
And the silence began again.
She dared not question him in that mood, so she ventured again: "The old boy shooting left-handed—didn't he even fan the wind near you?"