"Are you feeling out of sorts?" I said with a sudden concern.
"No," said Angel.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes," said Angel.
I looked at her carefully; but there was as little expression in her face as I have ever seen in it. Then she rose, and went quietly to her room.
I lighted a cigarette, and had nearly smoked it, when the explanation of her lack of interest in our visitor broke upon my mind: sisters always, or nearly always, disapprove of their brother's friends. I was somewhat vexed; it was the first womanly invasion of my freedom of which she had ever been guilty. However I dismissed the matter as a piece of inevitable girlishness; and presently I went to her door, and called to her that it was time she was dressing to go out and dine at the Cheshire Cheese. At dinner she seemed to have lost her wonted spirits; she talked little and listlessly; and again I asked her if she were feeling out of sorts. She said that she was not. But when we returned to the Temple after dinner, she said she was going to bed, and went. As I drove down to the club to play Bridge, I wondered if she could by any chance be sulking. Truly, she had not looked sulky once, and I had believed that form of temper to be foreign to her nature. But I wondered.
