He had recovered from the fear Cornelia had struck into him, in her first defiance, and met her threats and hauteur with open scorn.
"You are a most adorable actress!" was his constant sneer.

And his every action told that he did not intend to let Cornelia play with him a second time.

With all his profligacy and moral worthlessness, he had a tenacity of purpose and an energy in this matter that showed that either Cornelia must in the end bow to his will, or their contest would end in something very like a tragedy.
And if a tragedy, so be it, was the desperate resolve of Cornelia; whose eyes were too stern for tears when she saw that Lucius was still the former creature of appetite; full of intrigue, sweethearts, seashore revels, carouses, singing, and music parties and water excursions with creatures of his choice from morning until midnight.
She could not altogether shun him, though she successfully resisted his half blandishments, half coercion, to make her join in his wild frivolities.

One revenge she found she could take on him--a revenge that she enjoyed because it proclaimed her own intellectual superiority, and made Ahenobarbus writhe with impotent vexation--she had him at her mercy when they played at checkers;[133] and at last Lucius lost so much money and temper at this game of wit, not chance, that he would sulkily decline a challenge.

But this was poor consolation to Cornelia.