No woman in such circumstances is moved very much by an appeal to her caution.
"But I want to see you, Jack," she said miserably.
"That seems to be the only instinct that governs you," he retorted, slightly impatient. "Can't you ever learn the elements of prudence? It seems to me about time that you substituted common sense for immature impulse in dealing with present problems."
His voice was cold, emotionless, unpleasant. She stood with the receiver at her ears, flushing to the tips of them under his rebuke. She always did; she had known many, recently, but the quick pang of pain was never any less keen. On the contrary.
"Don't you want to see me? I have been away for ten days."
"Yes, I want to see you, of course, but I'm not anxious to spring a mine under myself—under us both by going into your house at this time."
"My brother has not been here in a week."
"Does that accidental fact bar his possible appearance ten minutes from now?"
She wondered, vaguely, whether he was afraid of anything except possible damage to her reputation. She had, lately, considered this question on several occasions. Being no coward, as far as mere fear for her life was concerned, she found it difficult to attribute such fear to him. Indeed, one of the traits in her which he found inexplicable and which he disliked was a curious fearlessness of death—not uncommon among women who, all their lives, have had little to live for.
She said: "If I am not worth a little risk, what is my value to you?"