"Say, Maud, you aren't going to keep it up? That's not like you. I'll tell you all that happened last night if you'll listen."
She made a slight gesture of distaste. Her face was white and cold as marble. "I would rather not hear, thank you," she said, without looking at him. "I would rather you went away."
Jake stood up. There was no longer any suggestion of anger or any other emotion about him. His eyes glittered like red quartz in the sun; but his brow was absolutely unruffled.
"Well," he said, in a very pronounced drawl, "I should have some breakfast if I were you, and see how I felt then. It's wonderful what a difference breakfast makes."
He turned away with the words; she heard him go with relief.
On the other side of the door was the red setter, Chops. He pushed his way in with a passing smile at his master, who had conferred the freedom of the house upon him since Bunny's advent, to Mrs. Lovelace's prim disgust.
Jake made no attempt to hinder his entrance. He knew that Chops possessed privileges of friendship denied to himself. He closed the door upon him and departed.
Chops, after a cursory glance round for Bunny, came to the feet of his mistress. He looked at her with soft, questioning eyes, then, as she made no response, sat gravely down before her and rested his red, silken head upon her lap.
She looked down at him then. Her hand went forth to caress. He snuggled closer, sensing trouble, and breathed wistful greetings through his nose. His eyes, clear brown and full of love, looked up to hers.
The rigidity went out of her attitude. She bent suddenly over him and kissed him, touched by the honest devotion and sympathy of those eyes. By the simple method of offering all he had, Chops had managed to convey a little comfort to her soul.