He watched her sudden stooping movement, that brought the loose, intricate tea-gown about her agile body, outlining the limbs, which had the quick animal grace that is peculiar to the unconquered maiden. Her pose, strong and alive with power and self-reliance, recalled to him sharply the sense of opposition. He was annoyed that she should have done so naturally what he should have done, feeling in her too much self-reliance.
She rose, looking down with a childish delight at the sudden burst and roar of the flame. Then she turned, studying his face. The artist in her made her quickly aware of the remnants of the emotion which had stirred him.
"What is it?" she said, with the gentleness that was tantalizing to him. "You have a strange look."
"Yes," he answered; "I have been behind the scenes."
"What do you mean?"
"I have been with Mrs. Bloodgood all the afternoon—found her at the station as she was leaving."
"Mrs. Bloodgood was running away," she said, puzzled, but with a fear in her eyes that did not escape him.
"What—you did not know!" he exclaimed. "Majendie killed himself this afternoon at two o'clock."
"Majendie—Mrs. Bloodgood!"
She looked at him a moment with a face struck with horror, and then fell back into a chair, seized with the suddenness of the climax.