"Oh, dear me, yes! He's sat down by her on the ground—looking up, you know!"
"Yes, I can imagine, Mr. Alison."
"A fine pair!" He turned round with a sigh. "And very fond of one another! And yet you think you could—? Well, perhaps you could—who knows?" He seemed to study her thoughtfully.
"I don't want to, you know—unless I'm driven," said Jenny.
"You mustn't do it," he told her, with some return of his authority. He softened the next moment; "I don't believe you would."
"Run no risks—advise your friends to run none. You've seen enough of me now to know that it's not safe to conclude I shan't do a thing just because I think it's wrong—or even because I don't at this moment mean to do it. I have to reckon with a temper; others had better reckon with it, too."
Alison looked at me, pursing up his lips. "I think that she points out a real danger."
"I'm sure she does," I rejoined. "And you must reckon with it."
"Yes," he murmured, his eyes again searching her face. She nodded her head ever so slightly at him with a defiant smile. "But losing your temper oughtn't to be relied on as a resource. Reckon with it if you like—not on it, Miss Driver."
Jenny laughed outright at that. "He hits me hard—but it makes no difference," she said to me. "The plan stands." She turned quickly on him: "In the end, what do you make of it?" She stretched out her right hand. "Are even good things soiled if they are taken from that hand?"