She laughed a forced, unnatural laugh, and came a few steps into the room.
"There is no oil in the lamp, my dear," he continued, suavely. "Have you been too busy to remember to fill it?"
"I will go and get some," she said, quickly turning towards the door.
But the man's hand shot out and caught her arm, and at his touch she shrank away, cowering.
"I think not," he cried, harshly. "We will sit in the darkness, my dear, and—wait."
"How mysterious you are, Rupert!" She forced herself to speak lightly. "What are we going to wait for?"
But the man only laughed—a low, mocking chuckle—and pulled the girl nearer to him.
"Aren't you going to kiss me, Mary? It's such a long time since you kissed me—a whole twelve hours."
The girl's free hand clenched tight, but she made no other protest as her husband took her in his arms and kissed her. Only it seemed to me that her whole body was strained and rigid, as if to brace herself to meet a caress she loathed.... In fact the whole situation was becoming distinctly embarrassing. The man seemed to have completely forgotten my existence, and the girl so far had not even looked at me. Undoubtedly a peculiar couple, and a peculiar house. Those cobwebs: I couldn't get them out of my mind.
"Hadn't I better go and fill the lamp now?" she asked after a time. "Those candles give a very poor light, don't they?"