She was a half-hypnotised thing, and Betty, watching her with curious but tender eyes, recognised the abnormality.

“Ah, if I am a clever woman,” she said, “he is a clever man.  He is beginning to see that his power is slipping away.  That was what G. Selden would call ‘bluff.’”

CHAPTER XXXI

NO, SHE WOULD NOT

Sir Nigel did not invite Rosalie to accompany them, when the next morning, after breakfast, he reminded Betty of his suggestion of the night before, that she should walk over the place with him, and show him what had been done.  He preferred to make his study of his sister-in-law undisturbed.

There was no detail whose significance he missed as they went about together.  He had keen eyes and was a quite sufficiently practical person on such matters as concerned his own interests.  In this case it was to his interest to make up his mind as to what he might gain or lose by the appearance of his wife’s family.  He did not mean to lose—­if it could be helped—­anything either of personal importance or material benefit.  And it could only be helped by his comprehending clearly what he had to deal with.  Betty was, at present, the chief factor in the situation, and he was sufficiently astute to see that she might not be easy to read.  His personal theories concerning women presented to him two or three effective ways of managing them.  You made love to them, you flattered them either subtly or grossly, you roughly or smoothly bullied them, or you harrowed them with haughty indifference—­if your love-making had produced its proper effect—­when it was necessary to lure or drive or trick them into submission.  Women should be made useful in one way or another.  Little fool as she was, Rosalie had been useful.  He had, after all was said and done, had some comparatively easy years as the result of her existence.  But she had not been useful enough, and there had even been moments when he had wondered if he had made a mistake in separating her entirely from her family.  There might have been more to be gained if he had allowed them to visit her and had played the part of a devoted husband in their presence.  A great bore, of course, but they could not have spent their entire lives at Stornham.  Twelve years ago, however, he had known very little of Americans, and he had lost his temper.  He was really very fond of his temper, and rather enjoyed referring to it with tolerant regret as being a bad one and beyond his control—­with a manner which suggested that the attribute was the inevitable result of strength of character and masculine spirit.  The luxury of giving way to it was a great one, and it was exasperating as he walked about with this handsome girl to find himself beginning to suspect that, where she was concerned, some self-control might be necessary.  He was led to this thought because the things he took in on all sides could only have been achieved by a person whose mind was a steadily-balanced thing.  In one’s treatment of such a creature, methods must be well chosen.  The crudest had sufficed to overwhelm Rosalie.  He tried two or three little things as experiments during their walk.