He looked down at her long and steadily, with a hint of something in his eyes which she did not understand, which she instinctively feared. She put a hand before her eyes to shut out that look in his; and he seized the hand and dragged it aside and compelled her to meet his gaze.
“Look here,” he said quickly. “We’ve got to meet and talk this matter out. We can’t talk here. They’ll miss you presently, and search for you.”
They had missed her already. Mr Morgan was even then on his way to discover their retreat. He approached the door while Steele spoke. Steele continued speaking rapidly and with vehement insistence.
“It’s not going to end like this, you know. It can’t. Now that I know you love me, I’m not reckoning anything else. Nothing else counts. I’ll win you, if I have to break every law under the sun. You are mine. I’ll have you, whoever stands in my way. Yours is no better than a forced marriage. You belong to me. You belonged to me first. I went abroad to make a home for you. I’ve done that. Now I’ve come back to fight for you—in a double sense. If I come through this war, you go back with me. I won’t go without you. Think it over. I’ll see you somehow, and learn your decision later. We’ll bolt. Don’t be frightened. It’s a bit of a muddle, but it will all come right.”
At which moment the door opened, and Mr Morgan, ruffled and large and important, with an air of refusing to see what was altogether painfully obvious, advanced with an exaggeration of dignity and offered Prudence his arm.
“Your partner is looking for you,” he said. “You have overstayed the interval.”
Prudence placed her hand on his sleeve, and, with her face averted from Steele, walked silently out of the room.