There was a slight nervous jerkiness about her companion's driving, but when Felicity glanced at Julia Morton she could detect no nervousness in her expression. Only a half smiling determination which hardened the line of her mouth. 'Take time for your reply,' Felicity told herself. 'Take time.' And then, recalling that nothing is more disturbing to a provocative speaker than an indifferent silence, she relaxed in her seat and refused to utter a word. In a way it was a trial of strength between them and, during the last few minutes of the drive, Felicity thought she detected a slight crack in the other woman's monumental self-confidence. At any rate, having glanced sideways in her turn and established beyond doubt that Felicity's silence was not a crushed one, she finally said, as though driven to seek a different, less satisfactory explanation, 'Well, Miss Grainger, what have you to say to my warning?' 'Absolutely nothing,' Felicity assured her cheerfully. 'You say you don't like me. You don't have to, you know.
