It reminded Louis unpleasantly of the attitude of the woman in the _Marriage a la Mode_.

Then she chattered; and it struck him, as it had struck him more than once before, that Tyson had found his wife's head empty and furnished it according to his own taste.

She was always quoting Tyson; and as there was not the least indication of inverted commas, it was hard to tell which was quotation and which was the original text.

This creature of fitful, unbalanced mind and reckless speech was certainly the Mrs.Nevill Tyson he had sometimes seen at Thorneytoft; but it was not the Mrs.Nevill Tyson of last night, nor even of the other day, that afternoon when her eyes said, as unmistakably as eyes could say anything, that she would not accept defeat.
Another moment and the expression of her face had changed again; he saw something there that he had never seen before, something unguarded and appealing.

He was near the end of doubt.
He felt that if he stayed with her another moment he would lose his head, and he did not want to lose it--yet! He struggled desperately between his desire to stay and his will to go--if there was any difference between desire and will.
His struggles were cut short by the entrance of Tyson.
He walked into the room at half-past five, greeted Stanistreet cheerfully (his eyes twinkling), ordered fresh tea, and began to talk to his wife as if nothing had happened.