“The figure eight—don’t you see?”
He pointed to the balls remaining on the board.
“So it is! Where did you learn to do that?” she asked, smiling gently.
“Ah, that’s telling, isn’t it?” He chuckled slily, swept the balls together with his hand, and announced his intention of going in search of his man, with a view to a game of billiards.
Judith sank back in her chair as the door closed on him. The firelight played about her face, which, though not less beautiful, had grown to look older. She had been living hard these last few days.
The door opened, and Rose came in with her hat on and a parcel in her hand.
“No tea?” she cried, kneeling down on the hearthrug and holding out her hands to the fire.
“It isn’t five o’clock yet.”
There was an air of tension, of expectancy almost about Judith which contrasted markedly with her habitual serenity.
Rose turned suddenly. “When, Judith, when?” she cried with immense archness.