She herself rose from the table upon Bunny's departure, and as she did so she was for the first time conscious of Capper's critical scrutiny. It passed almost immediately as he sprang to his feet to open the door.
"I shall have the pleasure of seeing you again?" he asked.
She bent her head. "I am only going to fetch a wrap for the garden."
He smiled and bowed her out.
Jake was in the act of lighting a cigarette when he returned to the table. He proffered the end of it to Capper, and as the latter stooped to kindle his own their eyes met. Capper's held a question that could scarcely be ignored.
Half-reluctantly Jake removed his cigarette and spoke. "It's the biggest problem I've ever been up against."
Capper puffed forth a cloud of smoke. "What's troubling you?"
Jake sat down heavily. "She ain't pleased--not any. Life is damnably difficult. I thought I was going to make her happy, but I've made an almighty failure of it. She used to just tolerate me in the old days; but now--she hates the very sight of me. The mere thought of bearing me a child seems to drive her clean crazy."
He ceased to speak and sat bowed in his chair, his chin on his breast, his eyes gazing sombrely forth under bent brows.
Capper was still on his feet. He stood cracking his fingers one after the other with meditative regularity. His eyes, very green and shrewd, rested upon Jake's head that shone like copper in the lamplight.