Free Towards Zero by Agatha Christie

charming-mannered little pukka sahib! I don’t believe you’ve got any feelings. You’re just a fish —a damned cold-blooded fish! Why don’t you let yourself go now and then? Why don’t you shout at me, swear at me, tell me to go to Hell?”
    Nevile sighed. His shoulders sagged.
    â€œOh lord,” he said.
    Turning on his heel he left the room.
    III
    â€œYou look exactly as you did at seventeen, Thomas Royde,” said Lady Tressilian. “Just the same owlish look. And no more conversation now than you had then. Why not?”
    Thomas said vaguely,
    â€œI dunno. Never had the gift of the gab.”
    â€œNot like Adrian. Adrian was a very clever and witty talker.”
    â€œPerhaps that’s why. Always left the talking to him.”
    â€œPoor Adrian. So much promise.”
    Thomas nodded.
    Lady Tressilian changed the subject. She was granting an audience to Thomas. She usually preferred her visitors one at a time. It did not tire her and she was able to concentrate her attention on them.
    â€œYou’ve been here twenty-four hours,” she said. “What do you think of our Situation?”
    â€œSituation?”
    â€œDon’t look stupid. You do that deliberately. You know quite well what I mean. The eternal triangle which has established itself under my roof.”
    Thomas said cautiously: “Seems a bit of friction.”
    Lady Tressilian smiled rather diabolically.
    â€œI will confess to you, Thomas, I am rather enjoying myself. This came about through no wish of mine—indeed I did my utmost to prevent it. Nevile was obstinate. He would insist on bringing these two together—and now he is reaping what he has sown!”
    Thomas Royde shifted a little in his chair.
    â€œSeems funny,” he said.
    â€œElucidate,” snapped Lady Tressilian.
    â€œShouldn’t have thought Strange was that kind of chap.”
    â€œIt’s interesting your saying that. Because it is what I felt. It was uncharacteristic of Nevile. Nevile, like most men, is usually anxious to avoid any kind of embarrassment or possible unpleasantness. I suspected that it wasn’t originally Nevile’s idea—but, if not, I don’t see whose idea it can have been.” She paused and said with only the slightest upward inflection, “It wouldn’t be Audrey’s?”
    Thomas said promptly, “No, not Audrey.”
    â€œAnd I can hardly believe it was that unfortunate young woman, Kay’s, idea. Not unless she is a remarkable actress. You know, I have almost felt sorry for her lately.”
    â€œYou don’t like her much, do you?”
    â€œNo. She seems to me empty-headed and lacking in any kind of poise. But, as I say, I do begin to feel sorry for her. She is blundering about like a daddy longlegs in lamplight. She has no idea of what weapons to use. Bad temper, bad manners, childish rudeness—all things which have a most unfortunate effect upon a man like Nevile.”
    Thomas said quietly:
    â€œI think Audrey is the one who is in a difficult position.”
    Lady Tressilian gave him a sharp glance.
    â€œYou’ve always been in love with Audrey, haven’t you, Thomas?”
    His reply was quite imperturbable. “Suppose I have.”
    â€œPractically from the time you were children together?”
    He nodded.
    â€œAnd then Nevile came along and carried her off from under your nose?”
    He moved uneasily in his chair.
    â€œOh well—I always knew I hadn’t a chance.”
    â€œDefeatist,” said Lady Tressilian.
    â€œI always have been a dull dog.”
    â€œDobbin!”
    â€œGood old Thomas!—that’s what Audrey feels about me.”
    â€œâ€˜True Thomas,’” said Lady Tressilian. “That was your nickname, wasn’t it?”
    He smiled as the words brought back memories of childish days. “Funny! I haven’t heard that for years.”
    â€œIt might stand you