only during the long evenings that hostilities were resumed. And then,
more or less under cover.

There was one person upon whom Nora could openly vent her nervous
irritation after a long day in Gertie's society, and that was Frank
Taylor. They quarreled constantly, to the great amusement of the others.
But with him, too, she felt hopelessly at a disadvantage. He was
maddeningly sure of himself, and while he sometimes gave back thrust for
thrust, he never lost his temper. Seemingly, nothing could penetrate
his armor of good nature, nor make him comprehend that she really meant
her bitter words. Slow of movement and speech, his mind was alert
enough, and Nora had to admit to herself, although she always openly
denied it, that he had humor. To lose one's own temper in a wordy
passage at arms and find one's opponent still smiling and serene is not
a soothing experience.

Often, in the darkness of the night after she had gone to bed, she could
feel her cheek burn at the recollection that this 'ignorant clod,' as
she contemptuously called him to herself, had the power to make her feel
a weak, undisciplined child by merely never losing his self-control.

There would have been consolation in the thought that in his stupidity
he did not understand how she despised him, how infinitely beneath her
she considered him, had it not been darkened by the suspicion that he
understood perfectly well _and didn't care_.

How dared he, how dared he!

She had complained of his familiar manner to her brother a day or two
after her arrival. But he had given her neither support nor consolation.