That's all.
_A long pause, during which MRS. H. bows her head and rolls the
bread-twist into little pellets:_ G. _stares at the oleanders_.
MRS. H. (_Throwing back her head and laughing naturally_.) They train
us women well, don't they, Pip?
CAPT. G. (_Brutally, touching shirt-stud_.) So far as the expression
goes. (_Aside_.) It isn't in her nature to take things quietly. There'll
be an explosion yet.
MRS. H. (_With a shudder_.) Thank you. B-but even Red Indians allow
people to wriggle when they're being tortured, I believe. (_Slips fan
from girdle and fans slowly: rim of fan level with chin_.)
PARTNER ON LEFT. Very close to-night, isn't it? 'You find it too much
for you?
MRS. H. Oh, no, not in the least. But they really ought to have punkahs,
even in your cool Naini Tal, oughtn't they? (_Turns, dropping fan and
raising eyebrows_.)
CAPT. G. It's all right. (_Aside_.) Here comes the storm!
MRS. H. (_Her eyes on the tablecloth: fan ready in right hand_.) It
was very cleverly managed, Pip, and I congratulate you. You swore--you
never contented yourself with merely saying a thing--you _swore_ that,
as far as lay in your power, you'd make my wretched life pleasant for
me.
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