Reddin was in the easy chair, reading the paper, a pipe in the corner of his mouth. No one else was there.
'Jack Reddin!' she said.
'Hullo!' He turned. 'So you've come? I thought you'd have come long ago.'
That was all he said. But she assured herself that he was glad she had come, because he shouted to Vessons for tea. She was certain he was glad to see her. Yet there was something vaguely insolent in his manner. He was a man who must never be sure of a woman. The moment she committed herself for him and was at a disadvantage he despised her.
'Come over here!' he said. 'There! I suppose you've forgotten what it's like to be kissed, eh? And to live with a man? You can never go away again now.'
'Why?'
'Well, you are a simpleton! D'you think he'd have you back after this? The first time it was my fault, he thinks; but the second! It won't wash.' He laughed.
'This time's your fault as much as the other. You made me come both times. There's Vessons! Leave me get up.'
'No. Why should I?'
Vessons entered.