THE NARROWING CIRCLE
When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.
The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips.
Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.
Maud did not raise her eyes at Jake's entrance. She seemed intent upon her work. He came and stood beside her.
"I should have been back sooner," he remarked, "but Lord Saltash met me, and I had to take him back to the Castle in the dog-cart."
Her fingers moved very rapidly. "I thought perhaps you would dine with him," she said, in a voice that sounded very cold and aloof.
"Not I," said Jake. "Give me my own fireside, and my clay pipe that doesn't go into aristocratic society!"
She raised her eyes momentarily. "Are you a Socialist?" she asked.
His eyes were unblinkingly upon her. "I guess not," he said, speaking with something of a drawl. "I've seen life--lots of it--that's all. As to my politics, well, I reckon they're mine and no one else's. I think just what I like of everything and everybody." He turned those intent eyes suddenly upon Bunny. "What's wrong with the head of the family?" he asked.