"You have come to see if Rupert is all right for the night?" she said. "Go in and have a look at him."
But Fletcher made no movement to enter. He faced her with a certain rigidity. "No. I came to see you—alone."
She made a sharp movement that was almost a gesture of protest. Then she turned and drew the door softly shut behind her. Robin came and pressed close to her, as if he divined that she stood in need of some support. With her back to the closed door and the moonlight in her eyes, she stood before Fletcher Hill.
"What do you want to say to me?" she said.
He bent slightly towards her. "It is not a specially easy thing, Miss Burton," he said, "when I am more than half convinced that it is something you would rather not hear."
She met his look with unflinching steadiness. "I think life is made up of that sort of thing," she said. "It's like a great puzzle that never fits. I've been saying—unwelcome things—to-day, too."
She smiled, but her lips were quivering. The man's hands slowly clenched.
"That means you're unhappy," he said.
She nodded. "I've been telling Jack that I must get away—go and earn my own living somewhere. He won't hear of it."
"I can understand that," said Fletcher Hill. "I wouldn't—in his place."