Stephen’s attitude puzzled her. There was very little of the lover in his demeanour, except sometimes when he looked at her. The expression in his eyes then made her drop her own quickly; it disturbed her, because it told her so much. In his manner was sometimes constraint, but mostly he preserved an attitude of protective friendliness. Never once did he attempt an embrace or refer to their unnatural existence, but she knew that it was in his mind, that he was watching her, and waiting.

Her part was difficult to play. She felt that all the time she was behaving in a manner not her own, and it was a strain on her. Yet it was becoming more easy, bit by bit, made easy, no doubt, by the guard he set upon his temper and his frank tongue.

But his temper could not always be controlled. Hard at work on his novel he would grow tired and irritable and snappy. In the old days Elizabeth would have shown her hurt and her indignation; now she remembered the words of Mrs. Gabriel, and tried to be patient.

He lost a sheaf of papers containing notes for his book. That was everybody’s fault but his own. He upset his drawers in search of the notes, and when Elizabeth came in, greeted her in a tone of rampant exasperation.

“Ah!” he said. His tone said, Here is the culprit! “There seems to be a conspiracy in this house to hide my papers! Good Lord, I should think I’ve told you often enough that I won’t have anything in this room disturbed! It’s really disgraceful!”

Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort. This was rank injustice; she wanted to defend herself. Then she remembered Mrs. Gabriel, and managed to smile.

“What have you lost, Stephen? I don’t think I’ve touched anything of yours. Can I help to find it?”

“My notes,” he growled, more quietly. “I really do think you might tell the servants to leave my room alone.”

“I will,” she promised. “Have you looked in that chest in the corner?”

“My dear girl, is it likely I should put them in there?” Stephen demanded.

“You might have done it in an absent-minded moment,” she said. Now that the first flash of anger had subsided she was beginning to find this game interesting too. It was rather fun taming the fury of an unreasonable man-creature; it made you feel so old and Machiavellian.

Stephen ransacked another drawer.

“Chest indeed! The last place in the world where I should put them! Really, this is enough to put one off for a week.”

Elizabeth went to the chest and tried the lid.

“It’s locked!” Stephen snapped.

“Do open it!” she coaxed. “I shan’t feel satisfied until I’ve looked inside.”

“If anyone looks it ’ll be me,” Stephen said disagreeably. “I don’t want all my papers in a havoc.”