He would find the door ajar, stride into the room with that quiet, self-contained manner of his; and she must face him and stand ashamed!
For a brief instant she wavered, her resolution of the morning, to throw herself at his feet, put to flight by a sense of some impending terror. Should she spring forward and shut the door before he reached it, refusing to admit him until Martha came, or should she creep noiselessly into her room and lock herself in, remaining silent until he should leave the premises, believing no one at home? While she stood, half paralyzed with fear, the door moved gently, almost stealthily, swinging back half its width, and a man in cape-coat, and slouch hat drawn dose over his eyes, stepped into the room.
Lady Barbara gave a piercing shriek, sprang from her seat, and staggered back, grasping a chair to keep her from falling. “How dare you, Guy Dalton, to—”
The intruder loosened the top button of his cape, watching, meanwhile, the terrified woman, and, with a sneer, said: “Oh, stop that, will you? I've had enough of it. You thought you could get away, did you? Well, you can't, and the sooner you find that out the better for you.” He glanced coolly around the room. “So this is where you are, is it?—a rotten hole, anyhow. You might better have stayed where you were. Does Rosenthal pay you enough to keep this up, or is somebody else footing the bills? Now, you get your things on and be quick about it.”
She had been edging toward her bedroom door all this time, her eyes glaring into his with the fierceness of a cornered animal, muttering as she stepped—one word at a time:
“You—have—no—right—to—come—in—here.”
“I haven't, haven't I? I'd like to know who has a better right?” he returned angrily.
“No, you have not.” She was moving an inch at a time, keeping a chair between herself and Dalton, her eyes watching his every expression, her right hand stretched along the wall.
“Still at it, are you? Well, get through, and hurry up. I'll go where I please, and you'll come when I want you. Everybody is inquiring for you down at the house, and I promised them you would be back to-night, and you will. You were a fool to leave. It's a lot better than this. From what I heard last night, from one of Rosenthal's girls, I thought you had moved into something palatial.”
She had reached the bedroom door now, and her hand was on the knob.