"Mabel, don't be silly. I'm not sneering. Bagshaw's a clever--"
"You say he's 'that sort.' That's a sneer." She put her hands on the arms of her chair and raised herself to sit upright. She spoke with extraordinary intensity. "Nearly everything you say to me or to my friends is a sneer. There's always something behind what you say. Other people notice it--"
"Yes. Other people. They say you're sarcastic. That's just a polite way--"
He said, "Oh, come now, Mabel. Not sarcastic. I swear no one thinks I'm sarcastic. I promise you Bagshaw doesn't. Bagshaw thinks I'm a fool. A complete fool. Look at lunch!"
She caught him up. She was really angry. "Yes. Look at lunch. That's just what I mean. Any one that comes to the house, any of my friends, anything they say you must always take differently, always argue about. That's what I call sneering--"
He, flatly, "Well, that isn't sneering. Let's drop it."
She had no intention of dropping it. "It is sneering. They don't know it is. But I know it is."
He had the feeling that his anger would arise responsive to hers, as one beast calling defiance to another, if this continued. And he did not want it to arise. He had sometimes thought of anger as a savage beast chained within a man. It had helped him to control rising ill-temper. He thought of it now: of her anger. He had a vision of it prowling, as a dark beast among caves, challenging into the night. He wished to retain the vision. His own anger, prowling also, would not respond while he retained the picture. It was prowling. It was suspicious. It would be mute while he watched it. While he watched it....
"Well, well,", he said. "It's not meant to be sneering. Let's call it my unfortunate manner."
He stood before her, half-smiling, his hands in his pockets, looking down at her.
She said, "Perhaps you're different with your friends. I hope you are. With your friends."
He caught a glint in her eye as she repeated the words. Its meaning did not occur to him.
He bantered, "Oh, I'm not as bad as all that. And anyway, the friends are all the same friends. This place isn't so big."
Then that quick glint of her eye was explained--the flash before the discharge.
"Perhaps your friends are just coming back," she said. "Lady Tybar."