"You needn't fight," I said. "You needn't fight it. Don't get tangled up
in it. Just side-step, on to another ground."
She made a pause of impatience before she replied:
"I don't see where I am to side-step to, precisely."
"You do," said I. "A little while ago, you were warm and unfolded and
good. Now you are shut up and prickly, in the cold. You needn't be. Why
not stay warm?"
"It's nothing I do," she said coldly.
"It is. Stay warm to me. I am here. Why clutch in a tug-of-war with Lady
Lathkill?"
"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.
The music ran down. Lord Lathkill stopped the Victrola.
"Carlotta gone?" he said.
"Apparently."
"Why didn't you stop her?"
"Wild horses wouldn't stop her."
He lifted his hand with a mocking gesture of helplessness.
"The lady loves her will," he said. "Would you like to dance?"