In a word, between fetching Britomart and not fetching her, Amory had her husband by the short hairs.
She mused.—"Just a moment," she said.
And then she rose from the footstool, put one hand on the edge of the mantelpiece, and with the other drew up her skirt an inch or two and stretched out her slipper to the log.
"It really isn't necessary to fetch Britomart," she said after a moment, looking up. "Fetch her if you prefer it, of course, but first I want to say something else—something quite different."
That it was something quite different seemed to be a deep relief to Cosimo. He returned from the door again.
"What's that?" he said.
"It's different," Amory said slowly, "but related. Let me think a moment how to put it.... You were speaking a few minutes ago of selling out from the Eden and the Suffrage Shop. If I understand you, things aren't going altogether well."
"They aren't," said Cosimo, almost grimly.
"And then," Amory continued, "there's Mr. Prang. Neither you nor Strong seem very satisfied about him."
"It's Strong who isn't satisfied. I've no complaints to make about Prang."