"Do I clutch in a tug-of-war with my mother-in-law?"
"You know you do."
She looked up at me, with a faint little shadow of guilt and beseeching, but with a moue of cold obstinacy dominant.
"Let's have done," said I.
And in cold silence we sat side by side on the lounge.
The other two danced on. They at any rate were in unison. One could see from the swing of their limbs. Mrs. Hale's yellow-brown eyes looked at me every time she came round.
"Why does she look at me?" I said.
"I can't imagine," said Carlotta, with a cold grimace.
"I'd better go upstairs and see what's happening," she said, suddenly rising and disappearing in a breath.
Why should she go? Why should she rush off to the battle of wills with her mother-in-law? In such a battle, while one has any life to lose, one can only lose it. There is nothing positively to be done, but to withdraw out of the hateful tension.