But Miriam made no protest. She ate and drank ravenously. Mr. Barton sipped his wine and watched her. Occasionally he gave utterance to the peculiar chuckle which had wakened her before. The same uncanny feeling came again upon her. She could not shake it off.
"I wish now I had left you to Jabez," she said suddenly.
"Indeed, why?—that is the sort of speech which I should not make if I were you, more especially whilst you are consuming meat and drink of mine. Why do you wish such a thing?"
"Because I think you are very wicked."
"Wicked—how? Surely I have fed you. I have ordered for you a comfortable bed, and, what's more, if you answer satisfactorily the questions I am going to put to you, I intend to procure for you a situation—how then am I wicked?"
"I don't know—but I feel that you are. You remind me of a rat, and I loathe rats! I can see that woman who has gone feels as I do."
"Perhaps. Still she obeys me."
Miriam rose and took up her shawl.
"I am going," she said curtly.
"Indeed. I think you will also obey me, Miriam. Sit down I say."