Ellison frowned. It was a curious speech for a stranger to make. But then, of course, the other was unaware of the position in which the two men stood to each other. He was about to reply in sharp terms, in spite of the look of fear in Esther's face, when Merton broke in again:
"Forgive me. I know it's like my impertinence to intrude on your affairs. I was only thinking of Mrs. Ellison's safety."
"You may be sure I will take good care of that. I can quite understand your feelings, but you see the trouble is that you don't know all about us. There is a tie between that man and myself that nothing can ever loose."
"I beg your pardon, then, for speaking about it at all."
Esther had risen, and now said "Good-night." She did not look at Merton, merely gave him her hand and then passed from the room. A few moments later Merton wished his host good-night and in his turn departed. Ellison lit his pipe at the lamp, and went into the veranda, preparatory to crossing to the hut, where he had been sleeping of late. Esther was waiting there to say good-night to him. She was leaning against the veranda rails gazing down on the star-lit sea. Ellison stationed himself beside her.
"I thought you had gone to bed, dearie."
"I intended to go, but the house is so hot. I thought I would come out and get cool first."
"I'm afraid you're not very well to-night, little woman?"
"What makes you think that? Yes, I am quite well, thank you. A little tired, perhaps, but quite well."
He passed his arm round her waist. She started as if with surprise.