They turned on the lights, but throughout the frightful storm that followed, Piers leaned against the window-frame sombrely watching.
Avery sat on a sofa with Jeanie, her throbbing head leaning against the cushions, her eyes closed.
Nearly half an hour passed thus, then the storm rolled sullenly away; and at last Piers turned.
As though his look pierced her, Avery's eyes opened. She looked back at him, white as death, waiting for him to speak.
"Hadn't you better send Jeanie to bed?" he said.
Jeanie rose obediently. "Good-night, dear Avery."
Avery sat up. Her hand was pressed hard upon her heart. "I am coming with you," she said.
Piers crossed the room to the door. He held it open for them.
Jeanie lifted her face for his kiss. An unaccustomed shyness seemed to have descended upon her. "Good-night," she whispered.
He bent to her. "Good-night, Jeanie!"