Explore "A Mediterranean Mystery" by Fred E. Wynne on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Both Edmund's temper and my own were naturally worn a little thin under the tension of this uncertainty, and the friction of our futile calculations of chances. But neither of us could leave the subject alone or settle our minds to anything else. Each of us made guesses which to the other seemed more and more foolish and irritating. Edmund set himself to prove the inevitability of disaster, really, I suppose, in order to elicit my arguments in favour of optimism, which nevertheless he took a morbid pleasure in demolishing.
The bishop's arrival on the following afternoon was only just in time to dispel something like a positive mutual dislike which was being engendered between us by the strain.