She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.
He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.
A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal--a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.
She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said.
She looked at him sharply. "You will walk?"
She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. "Then you won’t want that."
Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking.
Maud waited a moment; then steadily she spoke. "You realized of course, that when I told you about Mr. Sheppard’s behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?"
Jake squared his broad shoulders. "All right, my girl. It’s safe with me," he said. "There shan’t be any scandal."
Maud was very white, but quite resolute. "Jake," she said, "you are not to do it."
"You are not to do it!" she said again, with vehemence. "I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You are not to make it so." She paused, and suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, don’t look at me like that! You make me--afraid!"
Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window-seat. "You’ve nothing to be afraid of," he said rather curtly. "You’re making your own bugbear. P’raps it’s natural," he added, with abrupt gentleness. "You’ve had a lot to bear lately. There! I’ve done what you asked. We had better get back while it’s fine."
He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her to pass.
He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she knew that it was in response to her appeal that he did so. She tingled with a burning embarrassment, which vanished all in a moment as he said: "Say, now, do you mind if I light my pipe before I follow you? Don’t wait! I’ll catch you up."
And she made her way out into the fleeting sunlight and racing wind with a strong sense of relief. The pipe was not a particularly aristocratic feature of Jake’s existence, but it was an extremely characteristic one, and it placed matters on a normal footing at once. Jake was never disconcerting or formidable when he was smoking a pipe. She consented to it gladly.