kept for callers, would descend upon her in a minute. She struggled against it. She had a forlorn desire to feel real for a few moments, to say things she believed. But of its own accord an archly playful remark popped out.
"Now you mustn't let us bore you, you must feel free to do whatever you want. I think it's dreadful to force guests to be amused."
"I feel awfully free. Don't you?"
This was so unexpected that her mind went quite blank. There seemed no possible reply that was worth making.
"I should like to lie in bed and laugh," he said calmly.
Phyllis tried to think of something to laugh about. It suddenly struck her that there are days when one does not laugh at all. Evidently this was one of them. The world had swinked, and looped its wild orbit for uncountable ages, all to produce this latest moment of lucid afternoon: and yet what cause was there for mirth? But she felt that if she could produce a clear chime of amusement it would be a mannerly and attractive thing to do. She opened her mouth for it, but only managed a sort of satiric cackle.
"You mustn't try to laugh," he said. "It's bad for you."
