He laughed into her eyes. "Now, don’t try to persuade me that you want me any longer! I know the signs too well. I am going to walk down and meet Jake, as I must have a word with him about the animals. By the way, why don’t you call him Jacob? The other is too frivolous for your august lips."
There was a sting in the smiling question of which she alone was aware. She knew that he had it in him to be malicious at times. But she would not seem to notice.
"Are you backing either of the horses running to-morrow?" she asked.
He raised his agile brows. "But, of course I am. Who ever went to a meeting without putting something on? And you don’t suppose I would lay a wager against one of my own beasts, do you?"
"You always back your own before anyone else’s?" she said.
"Of course," he made prompt reply. "We’ve pulled off a good many events since Jake took command."
"Yes," she said slowly. "He is a genius with horses."
"Oh, quite useful," said Saltash carelessly. "Well, good night to you both! Many thanks for your kind hospitality! Don’t forget the piano at the Castle! Come and go exactly as you like! I will give orders to that effect."
But the pleasant intimacy between them was broken. She knew that her refusal to go with him on the morrow had hurt him. He was in a mood to sting at a touch.
She gave him her hand with genuine regret. "Good-bye, Charlie!" she said gently.
He took it with a gesture that made her remember that his mother had been a Frenchwoman. "Good night, _ma chère_!" he said lightly. "When thou art dreaming, think of me!"
Her faint laugh had a note of bitterness. "But I never dream," she said.
When Jake returned at length, he entered an atmosphere so unmistakably stormy that he looked instinctively to Maud for an explanation.
The room was lighted and the curtains drawn. She was sitting in the low chair by the fire doing some intricate crochet-work with knitted brows. There was tension in her attitude, tension in the firm compression of her lips.
Bunny lay on his sofa, hot-cheeked, fiery-eyed, beating an impatient tattoo with one hand on the table by his side. On the table lay the presents that he had received that day, a box of paints and sketching block from his mother, a book from Maud, a small telescope from Jake himself. But he was looking at none of them. His brows too were closely drawn. His teeth bit viciously into his lower lip.