She heard the words as in a dream, scarcely recognizing the voice in its harsh passion. "Stay, he shall not remain here; not here in your room." Then she felt his hands grip hers, and the voice rang with fierce resentment.
"Maud! Maud! that this should have come to you--to you of all people. By heaven, it is too much. I will not bear it."
She laughed suddenly and broke from him. "You mean that he has taken too much whiskey. Well! plenty of men do that, and you others think--think none--none the worse." Then she broke down, flinging her arms across the bed by which she had been standing. "Oh, my God! what shall I do? what shall I do?"
Her outburst calmed him.
"Go into the other room, dear; I will call some one."
She turned on him as she knelt like a wild animal at bay.
"No! not the servants! no one shall know. I will not have it. Let me help. I am quite strong."
"Do you think I'd let you touch him?" he burst out. "Go! I'll manage."
She crept away, cowed by his vehemence, overcome by the desire to obey which subdues most women when the command is from one they love. Back to the fire she had left so short a time ago. It was dull now, but a touch sent the responsive flames leaping up the chimney. Would any amount of care restore that confidence in herself which but an hour ago had defied fate? Eustace and she--Eustace and me. What evil chance was this?
She started from a maze of confused fear at his knock at her door.