She wasn't a coward. His determination to keep smooth, by mere
politeness, the further course of their marriage seemed frivolous. That
might do, it was even indispensable, when the present corner was
turned; but for the moment--
What, in the name of God, had got into her? He grew increasingly
irritated at her arbitrary manner. Lee had kept forgetting that, where
Fanny was concerned, it was causeless, or no better than a wild
surmise, a chance thrust at random. He made up his mind that he
wouldn't submit to a great deal of her bad humor. And, in this spirit,
he ignored a query put to him bitingly:
"Where is the paper cutter?"
His gaze remained level on the page before him.
"Didn't you hear me, Lee? I want the paper cutter. If it's on your
night table, get it."
"Let Amanda go up."
"She's out. I let both the girls go tonight. But I needn't explain."
She sat expectantly upright. Obliterating his cigarette, he returned,
without moving, to the magazine. Then he raised his head:
"You can't hope for much from that tone of voice."
"I'll always insist on your showing me some courtesy. I can't imagine
what you think I am. You lie to me as though I were a school-girl and
you haven't even common good manners. That trip to New York--I'll hear
the truth about it. Anyone could tell it was serious by the effect it
had on you. Put down your magazine, you might as well; you can't keep
on behind it forever.
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