She was frowning in the effort as you see sometimes a child do (what is delightful in women is that they so often resemble intelligent children--I mean the crustiest, the sourest, the most battered of them do--at times).

She was frowning, I say, and I was beginning to smile faintly at her when all at once she came out with something totally unexpected.
"It was horribly merry," she said.
I suppose she must have been satisfied by my sudden gravity because she looked at me in a friendly manner.
"Yes, Mrs.Fyne," I said, smiling no longer.

"I see.

It would have been horrible even on the stage." "Ah!" she interrupted me--and I really believe her change of attitude back to folded arms was meant to check a shudder.

"But it wasn't on the stage, and it was not with her lips that she laughed." "Yes.