He dropped into a chair; studied her gloomily.
Then the bell rang and Peter came in. And Sue faced two grave silent men.
“First,” she said, as briskly as she could, “we shall have tea.”
This much accomplished and the biscuits distributed, she curled herself up on the couch. “Now,” she said, “this has been a difficult week. And I can see only one thing to do. The Nature Film Company is in a bad way.”
For the first time the two men looked squarely at each other. Sue, her color up, a snap in her eyes, suppressed a perverse impulse to laugh, and steadied herself.
“Here we are,” she went on. “I've been worn out—no good for weeks. You men are fighting each other—oh, yes, you are!—and yet we three are the ones that have got to do it. Now, Jacob, you have hinted at new expenses, new money problems, to me. I want you to say it all to Peter. Every word. Wait, please! And, Peter, you have felt that Jacob was inclined to run wild. Say it to him.” She wound up in a nervous little rush and stopped short as if a thought frightened—“And as for me, it's not a question of what I will or won't do. I'm afraid, if we don't straighten things out, it's going to be a question what I shall be able to do. We must get all this—what do you say?—'on the carpet.' Please begin!”
She sank back, drew a long breath and watched them with eyes in which there was a curious nervous alertness.
More than Sue could have dreamed, it was a situation made to Peter's hand. Without a moment's warning she had called on him to play, in some small degree, the hero. She had given him the chance to be more of a hero than Zanin. His very soul glowed at the thought. Given an audience, Peter could be anything.
So it turned out that just as Zanin gave an odd little snort, caught squarely between impatience and pride, Peter turned on him and said, very simply:
“Sue is right, Zarin. We have been knifing each other. And I'm ashamed to say that I haven't even had the sense to see that it wasn't business.” And he put out his hand.