Andrews turned to Alice. "Miss Hemingway, are you, perhaps, a bit
hungry?"
She shook her head quickly. "Frankly, I couldn't get it down and keep
it."
"Then perhaps in an hour," said Andrews. "I was only thinking of your
comfort."
Alice squirmed. Both of them were, in their own way, fighting to
control the situation. Andrews had just oozed out of the indignity of
having an order or request countermanded. Norton had just ignored an
implied insult.
So long as they struggled, quietly, nothing would result but
well-rubbed nerves. But if open conflict broke out it might get rough
indeed.