“I can’t imagine why you should see my ire,” Rommy returned, with a shy grin. To be quite honest, Rosamund didn’t think her mean side counted for much. She didn’t think anyone had ever been scared of her, particularly, and probably not even intimidated. She got stressed and sorrowful more than she got angry, and frustration was the sort of thing she preferred to release without company.
But she could laugh at Mr. Prewett’s remark about the champagne. “I imagine you’re right,” she said, with another chuckle, looking around the wider room bright-eyed, “I fear a mild Jelly-legs jinx might be enough to topple some of the guests completely!” (She did not add her suspicions, which were that Mr. Prewett’s twin’s friends, if not his own, were likely to see this party through to the early hours of the morning with more gusto even than it had now.)
But she could laugh at Mr. Prewett’s remark about the champagne. “I imagine you’re right,” she said, with another chuckle, looking around the wider room bright-eyed, “I fear a mild Jelly-legs jinx might be enough to topple some of the guests completely!” (She did not add her suspicions, which were that Mr. Prewett’s twin’s friends, if not his own, were likely to see this party through to the early hours of the morning with more gusto even than it had now.)
