She stopped short and drew herself up haughtily. Their eyes met. There was defiance in hers. She did not speak. Landover confronted Percival, white with fury.
“I am capable of looking after Miss Clinton,” he exclaimed. “Your beastly officiousness—”
“You will go back to your cabin at once, Miss Clinton,” said Percival, ignoring Landover.
She did not move.
“Miss Clinton came out here at my suggestion,” said Landover. “If you have any more bullying to do, confine yourself to me, Percival.”
“I am not doing this because I enjoy it, Miss Clinton,” went on the young man, still looking into her unwavering eyes. “I am sorry it is necessary to remind you that there are no privileged classes here. You will have to obey orders the same as every one else.”
“Very well,” she said, suddenly lowering her eyes. “Take me back to the cabin, Mr. Landover. There is nothing more to say.”
Percival stood aside. They walked past him without so much as a glance at his set, unsmiling face. Landover slipped an arm through hers. She did not resist when he drew her up close to his side. Percival saw him lean over and speak to her after they had gone a few paces. His lips were close to her ear, but though his voice was low and repressed, the words were distinctly audible to the young man.
“Ruth darling, I am sorry,—I can't tell you how sorry I am for having subjected you to this insult. God, if I could only help matters by resenting it, I—”
She broke in, her voice as clear as a bell.