I hesitated slightly, confused by such direct questioning.

“I shall feel more free alone,” I replied at last, “for I shall have only myself to guard.  I am used to taking care of myself.  Besides, this is likely to prove a rather unpleasant situation for a lady.  You must remember I propose to fight this thing out now in the open.  I am going to be Gordon Craig, and not a make-believe Philip Henley.  The scene has changed, and I ’m glad of it.  I feel more like a man already.”

“And you conclude I can be of no help, no assistance—­”

The cracked voice of Sallie came to us up the stairs, the unexpected sound startling both.

“I reckon you all better com’ down an’ eat.”

She stood in the light of the front door watching us, and we descended the flight of steps without exchanging a word.  The woman turned and walked in advance into the dining-room.

“Where is Coombs?” I asked, looking about curiously.

“He done eat already, but I reckon he ’ll be ’round ’gain after a while.  You all just help yerselves.”

We endeavored to talk as we sampled the meal, directing our conversation into safe channels, both obsessed with a feeling that whatever we said would be overheard.  The woman vanished into the dark passage leading toward the kitchen, but no sound of labor reached us from that direction, which made me suspicious that she lingered not far from where we sat.  I caught Mrs. Henley’s eyes occasionally straying in that direction uneasily.  Yet she managed to keep up a sprightly conversation, largely relating to the country we had traveled over.  Neither of us ate heartily, merely toying with the rather unpalatable food, and, as soon as we dared, pushed back our chairs.  It was a relief to get out of the room, but as we stood a moment in the front doorway, breathing in the fresh air, I noticed a giant form approaching the house through the weeds.

“Coombs is coming already for his interview,” I said hastily.  “As it may be stormy perhaps you had better retreat upstairs.”

She glanced in the direction of his approach, and drew slightly back into the shadow of the hall.  There was a flush on her cheeks, and her eyes met mine almost defiantly.

“I will go,” she said quickly, “but I shall not leave this house while you remain.”

CHAPTER XVI

COMPELLING SPEECH

She was gone before I could speak, before I could even grasp the full purport of her decision.  I followed the flutter of her skirt up the stairs, half tempted to rush after, yet as instantly comprehended the uselessness of any attempt at influencing her.  Even the short space of our acquaintance had served to convince me that she was a woman of resource, of character, and determination.  If she felt it right to remain no argument would be effective, or have the slightest weight.  Perhaps another night