Part 25 (1/2)

For a second she thought the long dark room empty.

Then she saw Ernest.

He was standing in one of the deep windows. A short squat figure black against the dim yellow of the velvet curtains. One hand held his cigarette; the fingers of the other hand tapped unevenly on the window gla.s.s.

She knew then that he must have seen her come into the house.

”Ernest.”

He turned.

”I've been waiting for you,” he told her with studied indifference.

”Where've you been, Jenny?”

She took a step into the room.

”I'm sorry, Ernest. I didn't know you'd be home so early.”

”It's late. Where've you been?”

She wondered why she should bother avoiding answering his question.

”Oh--out.”

Her tone was vague.

”No,” he scoffed. ”I wouldn't have guessed it. Really, I wouldn't!”

She loosened the fur from her neck and tossed it onto the center table.

”Don't, Ernest.”

”Don't what, Jenny?”

She sank down into the depths of the nearest chair.

”Oh--nothing.” Her hands clinched themselves. ”Nothing.”

He came and stood quite close to her. He glanced quickly at her, puffing the while at his cigarette. She thought he looked wicked and pagan; hideous and yellow behind the rising smoke. His narrow eyes peered at her.

”Well, Jenny--out with it, my girl. Where've you been?”

She looked away from him. Her face was pale. In the twilight shadowed room he had seen how wide and strange her eyes were.

She made up her mind then that it was not worth bothering about. She would tell him the truth. She did not care how he took it.

”I've been to see--; to--see--father--”

She whispered the words. Her eyes wavered back to his face.