She heard him descending the stairs, and braced herself with a throbbing heart to meet him. But she was trembling in every limb.
She did not turn to greet him as he entered, but kept her face resolutely averted.
He came in, closed the door with evident purpose, and drew near to her. She shrank at his coming. A quick involuntary shudder went through her. She stiffened herself instinctively.
He spoke, in his voice a soft, half-wheedling note of remonstrance. "Say, Maud, it ain't--altogether--reasonable to condemn a man unheard."
Her breath came short. She would not look at him. With a quivering effort she spoke. "I don't see any point in discussing the obvious. I am bound to believe the evidence of my own eyes."
"Without doubt," conceded Jake. "And they testified to my being screwed last night?"
"You can't--with truth--assert that you were sober," she said.
Jake did not make the assertion. He stood considering. After a moment: "Do you object so strongly to the sight of me that you can't bear to look at me?" he asked.
His tone was faintly humorous. She resented it on the instant, hotly, almost fiercely. It was so exactly the attitude that she had anticipated.
"I do object--yes," she said, her voice low and vehement. "I can't think how you can have the effrontery to speak to me until I give you leave."