“Never mind my name,” she said, and looked vexed. “You are not the first to discover its unsuitability. Will you have another cup of tea?”
“I haven’t started on my first cup yet,” he answered, and lifted it to his lips to conceal his amusement. “You are in a hurry. See here!” He placed a gun-metal watch on the table beside his plate. “We’ll give it ten minutes. If you attempt to finish under you will ruin your digestion. I would, if permitted a choice, allow half an hour for tea and another half-hour for digestion; but since that doesn’t fit in with your wishes, I sacrifice mine. Try this plum cake; it’s rather good. The woman who runs this place was formerly a servant of mine, and her plum cakes are excellent.”
He cut the cake into generous slices. Prudence took a slice and pronounced it as good as he had promised. Although she had declared that she was not hungry, with the food before her she discovered a very healthy appetite. Her spirits began to revive. After all, it was rather jolly having tea in this quaint place, with the autumn sunshine streaming in through the little window and falling brightly across the tea-table, till the honey in its glass pot shone like liquid amber, and the dahlias, which Major Stotford had removed from the centre of the table because they obstructed his view, were ruby red against the snowy cloth. The sunlight fell too upon the man’s dark hair and showed it thinning on the top and about the temples. Prudence noted these things with interest. She wondered what his age was, and decided that he was older than he appeared. She began to feel more at ease with him. He ate surprising quantities of cake in the limited time at his disposal, and dispatched several cups of tea. At the expiration of the ten minutes he returned the watch to his pocket and rose briskly.
“Time’s up,” he said, coming round to her seat and standing over her with his hand on the back of her chair. “I think I deserve thanks for my self-sacrifice, don’t you?”
Prudence would have risen too, but it was impossible to do so without coming into collision with him. She wished he would not stand so close.
“I can’t see where the self-sacrifice comes in,” she replied. “You made an excellent tea.”
He laughed and leant over her chair, so that their faces were on a level. The expression in his eyes startled her. She jerked back her chair quickly and stood up, but immediately his hand slipped to her arm and held her.
“Do you know,” he said, “I think you are a little afraid of me.”
“Let me go—please!” She was thoroughly alarmed now. The old uneasiness gripped her. She experienced again the sensation of being trapped. And his eyes frightened her. They held hers with strangely compelling force, and there was a look in them such as she had never seen in a man’s eyes before—such as she had never imagined human eyes could express. “I wish you—wouldn’t look at me—like that.”
The grip on her arm tightened. He drew her close to him, and his other hand came to rest on her shoulder, slipped round her shoulders and held her.