Tommy turned sharply upon his friend with accusation in his glance, but the next instant he summoned Tessa as if she had been a terrier and walked off into the compound with the child capering at his side.
Monck sat for a moment or two looking straight before him; then he packed together the papers in his hand and stepped through the open window into the room behind. It was empty.
He went through it without a pause, and turned along the passage to the door of his wife's room. It stood half-open. He pushed it wider and entered.
She was standing by her dressing-table, but she turned at his coming, turned and faced him.
He came straight to her and took her by the shoulders. "What is the matter?" he said.
She met his direct look, but there was shrinking in her eyes. "Everard," she said, "there are times when you make me afraid."
"Why?" he said.
She could not put it into words. She made a piteous gesture with her clasped hands.
His expression changed, subtly softening. "I can't always wear kid gloves, my Stella," he said. "When there is rough work to be done, we have to strip to the waist sometimes to get to it. It's the only way to get a sane grip on things."
Her lips were quivering. "But you—you like it!" she said.