“There’s no other door,” answered Ralston, looking about. “Face it out. Let him come in!”
“I daren’t—he’ll make another scene—”
“Not before me—if he begins, I’ll make him stop. You can’t send him away,” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Imagine what that man would think, and what he’d tell the other servants. That settles it.”
Leek stood motionless by the door during the colloquy, which he could not overhear, though he knew exactly what the two were saying. Katharine hesitated a moment longer, and then gave the order.
“Ask my father to go into the drawing-room,” she said. “I’ll come in a moment.”
Ralston laughed softly as Leek disappeared.
“What idiots we were—of course!” he said. “As though there were only one room. Look here, Katharine,” he continued, taking her hand as she rose, “I could slip out while you’re in there, but I’m not going to. I want to see you afterwards. I’ll wait here.”
“Do!” answered Katharine. “I shall feel better if I know you’re here. Not that I’m frightened—but—you understand.”
“Perfectly,” answered Ralston, looking at her.
She left the room and he closed the door behind her. She found her father standing in the middle of the great drawing-room, in the evening light, holding his hat, and still wearing his thin black overcoat, as though he did not mean to stay long—an observation which reassured her. But his face was dark and angry and his lips looked dry and cold. She stood still at a little distance from him.