With the instant, all-adapting egoism of the lover, she arrived at the only explanation. Something had happened.... Some word of hers had taken root, had flowered in the night.... He wanted her.... He had come to find her.... Things were going to be all right.... Why not? Why not?...
In another moment she would have been on her feet, calling to him: “I’m here. I’ll get it for you. What is it you want?” But before she could scramble to her feet he had nodded to himself, and walked on again, and she watched him climb the gate and disappear among the trees.
What a fool she was.... He had been listening to a bird in the wood.... He was out nesting.... He had said only yesterday that he wanted more blackcap eggs.... She jerked herself to her knees and listened. She could hear him moving in the undergrowth and the serene outpouring change to short, sharp cheepings, to the agonized danger note.
He was in luck....
“Krek! Krek! Krek-krek!”
She wished he wouldn’t. It was beastly....
With sudden decision she rose to her feet and moved noiselessly and hurriedly down the path. She would get away while she could.... He might be strolling back at any moment with the warm eggs in his hand.... There would be the blow-pipe and the mess of yolk to follow.... And he would go home at last looking perfectly satisfied.... Why not? Didn’t he care more for his wretched eggs than for anything on God’s earth? Of course! And that was why Coral had said——
Here for an instant her mind stood rigid for the old order. Then her thoughts, like waters when the dam breaks, overwhelmed it, came rushing and tumbling over each other, sweeping away the last remnants of opposition.
And that was why—and that was why she was going up to the Priory that very morning—up to his den—to smash up his old eggs! That would wake him up! Smash up his old eggs—that would wake him up! That would wake him up!...