'No, old girl, I'm going to see you through,' said Cairns doggedly.
'No, no, don't.' There was fear in her voice. 'I must have it out. Go away, for my sake, Tom.'
She pushed him gently into the hall, forced him to pick up his hat and stick and closed the door behind him. She braced herself for the effort; for a second the staircase shivered before her eyes like a road in the heat.
'Now for it,' she said, 'I'm in for a row.'
A pleasant little tingle was in her veins. She opened the dining-room door. It was not very light. There was a slight singing in her ears. She saw nothing before her except a man's legs clad in worn grey trousers where the knees jutted forward sharply. With an effort she raised her eyes and looked Edward in the face.
He was pale and thin as ever. A ragged wisp of yellow hair hung over the left side of his forehead. He peered at her through his silver-mounted glasses. His hands were twisting at his watch chain, quickly, nervously, like a mouse in a wheel. As she looked at his weak mouth his insignificance was revealed to her. Was this, this creature with the vague idealistic face, the high shoulders, something to be afraid of? Pooh!
'Well, Edward?' she said, involuntarily aggressive.
Wren did not answer. His hands suddenly stopped revolving.
'Well, Edward?' she repeated. 'So you've found me?'
'Yes,' he said at length. 'I . . . . Yes, I've found you.' The movement of his hands began again.