Jake smiled somewhat grimly. "A stormy May," he said.
The meal was of the simplest, served by Mrs. Lovelace in her best gown of black sateen. Her plump face wore a pursed look of peculiar severity. Maud, very pale and still, at the end of the table, gave her a murmured greeting which called forth a very grim response.
Jake was apparently at his ease, but he made no attempt to draw his wife into the conversation. He talked to Capper or was silent. He was still wearing the riding-costume with which she always associated him. She heard the clink of his spurs whenever he moved.
Capper was very gentle with her, full of kindly consideration. There were no difficult pauses. To a casual observer there would have been no evidence of strain. Only to the girl, sitting there at her husband's table, a stranger, was it almost insupportable. She did not know how she came through the meal, nor was she aware of eating anything. When it was over at last, she was thankful to rise and go.
She took refuge upstairs in the room that had been Bunny's, standing there in darkness, striving with herself, fighting desperately for composure. What was expected of her she did not know, whether to go or to remain. The impulse to go strongly urged her, but she held it back. There was the morrow to be thought of, the morrow to be faced, and she had a feeling--a dreadful, growing suspicion--that Jake was drawing to the end of his patience. Not that he had betrayed it by word or look; only he seemed to be waiting, waiting with an iron determination that no action of hers could baulk. She felt that if she fled from him to-night, she would never dare to face him again.
The thought of Charlie arose within her, Charlie, careless, debonair, gay of soul. He had offered her his protection. Should she go to him--even now? Could she? Dared she?
The temptation drew her, drew her. She knew Charlie so well. She was sure he would be chivalrous. She was sure she could count upon him. But his protection--what was it worth?
Now that she had seen Jake, had felt the primitive force of the man anew, her heart misgave her. She was possessed by the appalling conviction that in the matter of lawlessness Jake could outdo Charlie many times over, if once roused. No trammels of civilization would hold him. He would go straight for his prey, and no power on earth would turn him aside, or make him relinquish his hold till he had wreaked his vengeance.
For the first time it occurred to her that it might not be upon herself alone that that vengeance would fall. A great shudder went through her. She quivered all over, and turning crept to the bed and crouched beside it. She was terrified, unnerved, despairing. Her own wickedness frightened her, so that she could not even pray for help. She knew not which way to turn.
A long time passed thus; then there came a step upon the stair, a steady, quiet step. A hand pushed open the door.