David had got upon his feet. He was looking at the two women with a puzzled frown.
“What’s the matter?” he said slowly, and Mary turned on him with a sudden spurt of temper.
“I wonder you’re not ashamed,” she said in rather a trembling voice. “I do wonder you’re not—and will you please go away at once, or do you want the servants to come in, and every one to know how disgracefully you have behaved?”
“Molly, hush!” said Elizabeth again.
Her own colour died away, leaving her very pale. Her eyes were fixed on David with a look between pity and appeal. She left Mary and went to him.
“David,” she said, putting her hand on his arm, “won’t you go home now? It’s getting late. It’s nearly dinner time, and I’m afraid we can’t ask you to stay to-night.”
Something in her manner sobered David a little. Mary had screamed—why? What had he said to her—or done? She was angry. Why? Why did Elizabeth look at him like that? His mind was very much confused. Amid the confusion an idea presented itself to him. They thought that he was drunk. Well, he would show them, he would show them that he was not drunk. He stood for a moment endeavouring to bring the confusion of his brain into something like order. Then without a word he walked past Mary, and out of the room, walking quite steadily because a sober man walks steadily and he had to show them that he was sober.
Mary stood by the door listening. “Liz,” she whispered, “he hasn’t gone down-stairs.” Her terror returned. “Oh, what is he doing? He has gone down the passage to Edward’s room. Oh, do you think he’s safe? Liz, ring the bell—do ring the bell.”
Elizabeth shook her head. She came forward and put her hand on Mary’s shoulder.
“No, Molly, it’s all right,” she said. She, too, listened, but Mary broke in on the silence with half a sob.