But the state of affairs was such as was almost bound to lead to a climax sooner or later. Giles Sheppard’s hectoring mood was not of the sort to be satisfied for long with passive avoidance. Every glimpse he had of the girl, who ate his bread but disdained to do so in his company or the company of his friends, inflamed him the more hotly against her. It needed but a pretext to set his wrath ablaze, and a pretext was not far to seek.
One day about a week before Christmas he unexpectedly presented himself at the door of Bunny’s room.
The weather was damp and raw, and a cheerful fire burned there. Bunny was lying among pillows on the sofa. He had had a bad night, and his face, as he turned it to the intruder, was white and drawn.
Sheppard entered with arrogance, leaving the door wide open behind him. "Look here!" he said harshly. "You’ve got to turn out of this. The room is wanted."
Maud, who was dusting the room as was her daily custom, turned swiftly round with something of the movement of a tigress. Her face was pale also. She had slept even less than Bunny the previous night. Her blue eyes shone like two flames under her knitted brows.
He looked at her with insult in his eyes. "I mean just that, my fine madam," he said. "This room is wanted. The boy will have to go with the rest of the lumber--at the top of the house."
It was brutally spoken, but the brutality was aimed at her, not Bunny. Maud realized that fact, and curbed her resentment. She could endure--or so she fancied--his personal hostility with fortitude. But his announcement was sufficiently disquieting in itself.
"I understood that we were not to be disturbed at any time," she said, meeting his look with that icy pride of hers that was the only weapon at her command. "Surely some other arrangement can be made?"
Sheppard growled out a strangled oath; she always made him feel at a disadvantage, this slip of a girl whom he could have picked up with one hand had he chosen.
"I tell you, this room is wanted," he reiterated stormily. "You’d better clear out at once."
"Bunny can’t possibly be moved to-day," Maud said quickly and decidedly. "He is in pain. Can’t you see for yourself how impossible it is? I am quite sure no visitor who knew the facts of the case would wish to turn him out."