“I would like to!” he said tensely.  “I would like, this minute—­I’m a fool, Mrs. Wilson,” he finished miserably.  “I ought to be drawn and quartered, but when I see you like this I—­I get crazy.  If you say the word, I’ll—­I’ll go down and—­” He clenched his fist.

It was reprehensible, of course; he saw that in an instant, for he shut his teeth over something that sounded very fierce, and strode away from me, to stand looking out over the river, with his hands thrust in his pockets.  Of course the thing I should have done was to ignore what he had said altogether, but he was so uncomfortable, so chastened, that, feline, feminine, whatever the instinct is, I could not let him go.  I had been so wretched myself.

“What is it you would like to say?” I called over to him.  He did not speak.  “Would you tell me that I am a silly child for pouting?” No reply; he struck a match.  “Or would you preach a nice little sermon about people—­about women—­loving their husbands?”

He grunted savagely under his breath.

“Be quite honest,” I pursued relentlessly.  “Say that we are a lot of barbarians, say that because my—­because Jimmy treats me outrageously—­oh, he does; any one can see that—­and because I loathe him—­and any one can tell that—­why don’t you say you are shocked to the depths?” I was a little shocked myself by that time, but I couldn’t stop, having started.

He came over to me, white-faced and towering, and he had the audacity to grip my arm and stand me on my feet, like a bad child—­which I was, I dare say.

“Don’t!” he said in a husky, very pained voice.  “You are only talking; you don’t mean it.  It isn’t you.  You know you care, or else why are you crying up here?  And don’t do it again, don’t do it again—­or I will—­”

“You will—­what?”

“Make a fool of myself, as I have now,” he finished grimly.  And then he stalked away and left me there alone, completely bewildered, to find my way down in the dark.

I groped along, holding to the rail, for the staircase to the roof was very steep, and I went slowly.  Half-way down the stairs there was a tiny landing, and I stopped.  I could have sworn I heard Mr. Harbison’s footsteps far below, growing fainter.  I even smiled a little, there in the dark, although I had been rather profoundly shaken.  The next instant I knew I had been wrong; some one was on the landing with me.  I could hear short, sharp breathing, and then—­

I am not sure that I struggled; in fact, I don’t believe I did—­I was too limp with amazement.  The creature, to have lain in wait for me like that!  And he was brutally strong; he caught me to him fiercely, and held me there, close, and he kissed me—­not once or twice, but half a dozen times, long kisses that filled me with hot shame for him, for myself, that I had—­liked him.  The roughness of his coat bruised my cheek; I loathed him.  And then someone came whistling along the hall below, and he pushed me from him and stood listening, breathing in long, gasping breaths.