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 tonight, 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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