She was silent. They eyed each other, she standing at one side of the table, he sitting at the other. In the white-faced woman, with the rigid features and close-set lips, who looked at him with such unfaltering gaze, he scarcely recognised the pretty, dainty, blue-eyed girl whom it seemed only yesterday he had wooed and won. He was sufficiently a physiognomist and student of character to be aware that this woman meant every word she said. As this knowledge was borne more clearly in on him a curious something came into his own eyes--the something which had been there last night in the train. He spoke very softly.
"Mabel?"
Her voice fell as his had done.
"Well?"
"We are alone together in the house, you and I."
"We are; as you were alone with your uncle in the railway carriage."
"Why shouldn't I serve you as you persist in hinting that I served him? What reason is there?"
"None."
"Then--why shouldn't I?"
"You can."