If you ever overstepped it, I have a notion that it might
be--well, somewhat unpleasant for you."
He spoke the words with a smile, but the silence with which they were
received had in it something that was tragic. Chris was gazing straight
before her as they rode. Her expression was curiously stony, as if, by
some means, her customary animation had been suspended. Jack wondered a
little. After a moment she spoke, without looking round. "Jack!"
"Your humble servant!" said Jack.
"I'm not laughing," she said. "I want you to tell me something. You know
Trevor. You knew him years before I did. Have you ever seen him--really
angry?"
"Great Jove! yes," said Jack.
"Many times?" There was a little quiver in her voice, but it did not
sound exactly agitated.
"No, not many times. He isn't the sort of fellow to let himself go, you
know," said Jack.
"No," she said. "But what is he like--when he is angry?"
Jack considered. "He's rather like a devil that's been packed in ice for
a very long time. He doesn't expand, he contracts. He emits a species of
condensed fury that has a disastrous effect upon the object thereof.
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