Tanny. "He goes on, without considering the person he's talking to. This time it's come back on him. He mustn't say such personal things, if he's not going to risk an answer."
"I don't mind what he says. I don't mind a bit," said Jim.
"Nor do I mind," said Lilly indifferently. "I say what I feel— You do as you feel— There's an end of it."
A sheepish sort of silence followed this speech. It was broken by a sudden laugh from Tanny.
"The things that happen to us!" she said, laughing rather shrilly. "Suddenly, like a thunderbolt, we're all struck into silence!"
"Rum game, eh!" said Jim, grinning.
"Isn't it funny! Isn't life too funny!" She looked again at her husband. "But, Rawdy, you must admit it was your own fault."
Lilly's stiff face did not change.
"Why fault!" he said, looking at her coldly. "What is there to talk about?"
"Usually there's so much," she said sarcastically.
A few phrases dribbled out of the silence. In vain Jim tried to get Lilly to thaw, and in vain Tanny gave her digs at her husband. Lilly's stiff, inscrutable face did not change, he was polite and aloof. So they all went to bed.
In the morning, the walk was to take place, as arranged, Lilly and Tanny accompanying Jim to the third station across country. The morning was lovely, the country beautiful. Lilly liked the countryside and enjoyed the walk. But a hardness inside himself never relaxed. Jim talked a little again about the future of the world, and a higher state of Christlikeness in man. But Lilly only laughed. Then Tanny managed to get ahead with Jim, sticking to his side and talking sympathetic personalities. But Lilly, feeling it from afar, ran after them and caught them up. They were silent.
"What was the interesting topic?" he said cuttingly.
"Nothing at all!" said Tanny, nettled. "Why must you interfere?"
"Because I intend to," said Lilly.
