He stood stiffly for a few seconds, as if he would resist her; and Stella leaned against the window-frame, feeling physically sick as she watched him. Then abruptly his eyes came to hers, and she saw his face change. He put his hand on Tessa's shoulder.
"If you want forgiveness for yourself—and Peter," he said grimly, "go back to your corner and stay there!"
Tessa lifted her tear-stained face, looked at him closely for a moment, then turned submissively and went back.
Monck came down the verandah to his wife. He put his arm around her, and drew her within.
"Why are you trembling?" he said.
She leaned her head against him. "Everard, what did you say to Peter?"
"Never mind!" said Monck.
She braced herself. "You are not to be angry with him. He—is my servant. I will reprimand him—if necessary."
"It isn't," said Monck, with a brief smile. "You can tell him to finish laying the cloth."
He kissed her and let her go, leaving her with a strong impression that she had behaved foolishly. If it had not been for that which she had seen in his eyes for those few awful seconds, she would have despised herself for her utter imbecility. But the memory was one which she could not shake from her. She did not wonder that even Peter, proud Sikh as he was, had quailed before that look. Would Monck have accepted even Tessa's appeal if he had not found her watching? She wondered. She wondered.