George had known that she would come. Yet when he saw the white blur of her gown against the blackness of the bushes, his heart leaped. All through the ages men have waited for women in gardens—"She is coming, my own, my sweet——" and farther back, "Make haste, my beloved," and in the beginning, as Mandy could have told, a serpent waited.
Dalton was not, of course, a serpent. He was merely a very selfish man, who had always had what he wanted, and now he wanted Becky. He was still, perhaps, playing the game, but he was
playing it in dead earnest with Randy as his opponent and Becky the prize.
She recognized a new note in his voice and was faintly disturbed by it.
"So you are not afraid?"
"No."
She sat down on the bench. Behind them was the pale statue of Diana, the pool was at their feet with its little star.
"Why should I be afraid?" she asked.
"You are trying to shut me out of your heart, Becky—and you are afraid I may try to—open the door."
"Silly," she said, clearly and lightly, but with a sense of panic. Oh, why had she come? The darkness seemed to shut her in; his voice was beating against her heart——