Her chilled affirmative produced an equally chilled request for explanation. And now Cyprian, himself, might have remembered her much-discussed hair, the legacy of an Irish grandmother famed for a quick tongue and a plucky elopement. It made her granddaughter say the sort of thing easier said than forgotten.
"Narrow, narrow, narrow! You who ought to be so merciful to your fellow-creatures."
"No one in his senses attempts to show mercy to a poisonous reptile."
"That's simply melodrama. Digby Maur is a man whose position, you, at least, should hesitate to criticize."
"Thanks for the timely reminder. I had, of course, forgotten a good deal that you must constantly recollect. All the same, I will not have you visiting this pseudo-artist on the transparent pretence of arraigning his pictures."
"Did you say 'pretence,' Cyprian?"
He wanted to hurt her though in his heart he was ashamed. He twitched his shoulders impatiently.
"Very well," and her calm was heavy-laden. "To leave you no excuse for using the word again, understand that, in future, I will go where I please, when I please, and without pretence."
"Do you mean that exactly, Ferlie?"
"You have no right to prevent me."