He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand as though warding off a blow.
"One moment," she said, a calm taking the place of her forced gayety, her voice ringing with a deep note of scorn. "I didn't understand at first. Back here in the valley we're a little dull. We learn to speak well or ill as we think. At least, we learn to be honest with ourselves, and we try to be honest with others. We do not speak fair words and lie in our hearts. Our men have a rougher bark than yours, but they're sound and strong inside." She drew herself to her full height. "A woman is safe in this country—with the men of this country, Mr. Bent. It is only when——"
"Camilla! Forgive me. I was only trying you. I will do whatever you say—I——"
She walked to the door rapidly, then paused uncertainly, leaning against the door-jamb and looking down the street.
"Will you go?" she murmured.
"I can't—not yet."
"You must—at once. Jeff Wray is coming here—now!"
"What have I to do with him?"
"Nothing—only if he guesses what you've been saying to me, I won't answer for him. That's all."
Bent looked up with a quick smile, and then sat on the nearest desk. "I suppose I ought to be frightened. What? Jeff is a kind of a 'bad man,' isn't he? But I can't go now, Camilla. Wouldn't be the sporting thing, you know. I think I'll stay. Do you mind if I smoke?"