"Get up and go to that telephone!" "You little whippet," she said slowly, "I was once a soldier's wife--the only decent thing I ever have been.

This bullying ends now--here, at this instant! If you've any dirty work to do, do it yourself.

I've done my share and I've finished." He was astonished; that was plain enough.

But it was the sudden overwhelming access of fury that weakened him and made him turn, hand outstretched, blindly seeking for a chair.

Rage, even real anger, were emotions he seldom had to reckon with, for he was a very tired and bored and burned-out gentleman, and vivid emotion was not good for his arteries, the doctors told him.
He found his chair, stood a moment with his back toward his wife, then very slowly let himself down into the chair and sat facing her.