Marjorie paused; would Barnard take her word against Janet’s? Her loyal trust in him had made her at first slow to believe he was seriously courting Janet, but once convinced of his double dealing, indignation and contempt had supplanted all warmer feeling for him. Barnard still kept up the pretense of his affection for her, but was it likely he would take her part against Janet? She rose and moved unsteadily across the room that she might get a better look at him, and study his expression.
“Sit, here, Marjorie,” Barnard patted the sofa invitingly, but she declined, and he stepped to her side. “How often have I pictured you here,” he said softly, glancing about the comfortable room. “Little girl, I long for you always.”
“Don’t Chichester,” she threw out her hand beseechingly. “Drop this sham—be honest with me....”
“You doubt me?” in hurt surprise. “You, my darling, for whom I would sacrifice so much to win!”
“All that is past....”
“It is not,” he broke in vehemently. “I have learned my lesson this afternoon; I shall never give you up, never.” He spoke as if making an unalterable vow with himself, and she watched him uneasily. “Give me a little encouragement, take back your harsh words,” he whispered and with a movement so swift that she could not avoid it, he slipped his arm about her waist. Swayed by his physical charm, she permitted him to draw her closer, but before his lips touched hers, Duncan’s face leaped out of the shadows of memory, and she pushed Barnard from her.
“Stop!” In her endeavor to render her voice steady, she made it hard. “I am in no mood for love scenes, Chichester.”
A gleam of fury lighted Barnard’s eyes as he seized her arm.
“Has Duncan Fordyce come between us?” he demanded. “Answer!”
“Have you lost your senses?” Her cold fury matched his blazing wrath. “I took you for a gentleman; no gentleman browbeats a woman!”