Rosamund shivered slightly, but nodded as Dominey glanced towards her enquiringly.
“Don't let me see her, please,” she begged. “You must go, of course.—Everard!”
“Yes, dear?”
“I know what you are doing out there, although you have never said a word to me about it,” she continued, with an odd little note of passion in her tone. “Don't let her persuade you to stop. Let them cut and burn and hew till there isn't room for a mouse to hide. You promise?”
“I promise,” he answered.
Mrs. Unthank was making every effort to keep under control her fierce discomposure. She rose as Dominey entered the room and dropped an old-fashioned curtsey.
“Well, Mrs. Unthank,” he enquired, “what can I do for you?”
“It's about the wood again, sir,” she confessed. “I can't bear it. All night long I seem to hear those axes, and the calling of the men.”
“What is your objection, Mrs. Unthank, to the destruction of the Black Wood?” Dominey asked bluntly. “It is nothing more nor less than a noisome pest-hole. Its very presence there, after all that she has suffered, is a menace to Lady Dominey's nerves. I am determined to sweep it from the face of the earth.”
The forced respect was already beginning to disappear from her manner.