that Emmy, irritable unsatisfied Emmy, was as much superior to Alf as she herself was superior to him.  A wave of arrogance swept her.  Because he was a man, and therefore so delectable in the lives of two lonely girls, he was basely sure of his power to choose from among them at will.  He had no such power at that moment, in Jenny’s mind.  He was the clay, for Emmy or herself to mould to their own advantage.

“You can think yourself jolly lucky; my lad!” she repeated.  “I can tell you that much!”

ii

Jenny leant back in her chair exhausted by her excitement.  Alf reached round for the chair he had left, and brought it to the table.  He sat down, his elbows on the table and his hands clasped; and he looked directly at Jenny as though he were determined to explode this false bubble of misunderstanding which she was sedulously creating.  As he looked at her, with his face made keen by the strength of his resolve, Jenny felt her heart turn to water.  She was physically afraid of him, not because he had any power to move her, but because in sheer bullock-like strength he was too much for her, as in tenacity he had equally an advantage.  As a skirmisher, or in guerrilla warfare, in which he might always retire to a hidden fastness, baffling pursuers by innumerable ruses and doublings, Jenny could hold her own.  On the plain, in face of superior strength, she had not the solid force needed to resist strong will and clear issues.  Alf looked steadily at her, his reddish cheeks more red, his obstinate mouth more obstinate, so that she could imagine the bones of his jaws cracking with his determination.

“It won’t do, Jen,” he said.  “And you know it.”

Jenny wavered.  Her eyes flinched from the necessary task of facing him down.  Where women of more breeding have immeasurable resources of tradition behind them, to quell any such inquisition, she was by training defenceless.  She had plenty of pluck, plenty of adroitness; but she could only play the sex game with Alf very crudely because he was not fine enough to be diverted by such finesse as she could employ.  All Jenny could do was to play for safety in the passage of time.  If she could beat him off until Emmy returned she could be safe for to-night; and if she were safe now—­anything might happen another day to bring about her liberation.

“Bullying won’t do.  I grant that,” she retorted defiantly.  “You needn’t think it will.”  She jerked her head.

“We’re going to have this out,” Alf went on.  Jenny darted a look of entreaty at the kicking clock which lay so helplessly upon its side.  If only the clock would come to her aid, forgetting the episode of the tea-cosy!

“Take you all your time,” she said swiftly.  “Why, the theatre’s all full by now.  The people are all in.  They’re tuning up for the overture.  Look at it!” She pointed a wavering finger at the clock.

“We’re going to have this out—­now!” repeated Alf.  “You know why I brought the tickets here.  It was because I wanted to take you.  It’s no good denying it.  That’s enough.  Somehow—­I don’t know why—­you don’t want to go; and while I’m not looking you shove old Em on to me.”