Jake's chair scraped back and he was on his feet in a single movement. "Of course! Where is she? No, I'll fetch her myself. Out of the way, my good woman!"
He removed her from his path without the smallest ceremony, and was gone before she could protest.
In the passage he almost ran into his visitor. "Miss Brian! Is that you? Come right in! Snakes! You're wet. Come along to the fire!"
He had her by it before his greeting was fully uttered. A man of action at all times, was Jake. And Maud, still panting from her recent struggle with the elements, found herself in an easy-chair, holding numbed fingers to the blaze almost before she realized how she came to be there. He knelt beside her, unbuttoning her streaming waterproof. She saw the glint of the firelight on his chestnut hair.
"Thank you," she said, with an effort. "You are very kind."
He looked at her with those lynx-like eyes of his. "Say, you're perished!" he said, in his soft, easy drawl.
She smiled quiveringly at the concern in his face. She had expected a precipitate enquiry about Bunny, but it was evident that he had thoughts only for her at that moment. And she was very badly in need of human kindness and consideration just then.
She sat huddled over the fire, all the queenliness gone out of her, tried to speak to him twice and failed; finally, shook her head and sat in silence.
He got up and reached across the table for the coffee he had just poured out.
"Drink a little!" he said, holding it to her. "You need it."
She made a small gesture of impotence. Somehow the warmth and comfort of the room after the cheerless cold without had upset her. She still smiled, but it was a puckered, difficult smile, and her eyes were full of tears. She could not take the cup. Her throat worked painfully. Again she shook her head.
Jake stood beside her for a moment or two looking down at her, then with swift decision he set down the coffee, stepped to the door and quietly turned the key.
He came back to her with the steady purpose of a man quite sure of himself, knelt again by her side, put his arm about her.
"You lean on me, my girl!" he said softly. "Don't be afraid!"
She gave him a quick look. The tears were running down her face. She covered it suddenly with both hands and sobbed.
He drew her to him so gently that she was hardly aware of the action till her head came to rest on his shoulder. His free hand, strong and purposeful, took possession of one of hers and sturdily held it.
"It's all right," he murmured to her soothingly. "It's all right."
She wept for awhile without restraint, her nerves completely shattered, her pride laid low. And while she wept, Jake held her, strongly, sustainingly, his red-brown eyes staring unblinkingly full into the heart of the fire.
At the end of a long interval she grew a little calmer, made as if she would withdraw herself. But very quietly he frustrated her.
"No, not while you're feeling so badly. Say, now, let me take off your hat! Guess I can do it without you moving."
She was not in a condition to forbid him, and he removed it with considerable dexterity, while she still hid her quivering face against him with an instinctive confidence that paid a dumb tribute to the man's complete mastery of himself.
"I'm dreadfully sorry-to have behaved like this," she whispered at last.
"You needn't be sorry for that," said Jake. "No one will know except me. And I don't count."
"I think you do," she faltered, and made a more decided effort to free herself.
He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. "Say, now, if that coffee ain't cold, p'raps you'll try a sip."
He reached for it and held it to her without rising. She lifted the cup in both her trembling hands while he held the saucer, and slowly drank.
Jake's eyes went with abrupt directness to her wrists as she did it. He did not speak at the moment. Only as she returned the cup he put it quietly aside and laid his hand over hers.
"What's that skunk Sheppard been doing to you?" he asked.
She shrank at the straight question "How-how did you know-"
He lifted his hand and pushed back her sleeves without speaking. There was something dreadful about him as he regarded the bruises thus exposed.
A quick fear went through her. "Jake," she said sharply, "that-is no affair of yours. You are not to-interfere."
His eyes came up to hers and the hardness went from him on the instant. "I reckon you're going to make some use of me," he said.
She trembled a little and turned her face away. She had used his Christian name spontaneously, and now suddenly she found that all formality had gone from between them. It disconcerted her, frightened her, made her uncertain as to his attitude as well as her own.
"To say-what?" Her hands moved agitatedly beneath his till strangely, unexpectedly, they turned and clasped it with convulsive strength. "Yes, I am afraid," she said, with a sob.
"But I asked you to marry me weeks ago," said Jake.
Her head was bowed. She sought to avoid his look. "I know you did."
"And you are going to marry me," he said, in a tone that was scarcely a question.
She turned desperately and faced him. "I must have a clear understanding with you first," she said.
"I-see," said Jake.
He met her eyes with the utmost directness, and before his look hers wavered and fell. "Please!" she whispered. "You must agree to that."
He did not speak for a moment, but his fingers wound themselves closely about her own.
"I don't want you to be scared," he said finally. "But-that's a mighty big thing you've asked of me."
Maud's face was burning. "I knew it isn't for me to make-conditions," she said, under her breath.
A gleam of humour crossed Jake's face. "I guess it's up to me to accept or refuse," he said. "But-suppose I refuse-what are you going to do then? Will you marry me-all the same?"
She shook her head instantly. "I don't know what I shall do, Jake. I-I must go back and think."
She mustered her strength and made as if she would rise, but he checked her.
"Wait!" he said. "I haven't refused-yet. Lean back and rest a bit! I've got to do some thinking too."
She obeyed him because it seemed that he must be obeyed. He got to his feet.
"Poor girl!" he said gently. "It hasn't been easy for you, has it? Reckon you've just been driven to me for refuge. I'm the nearest port, that's all."
"The only port," Maud answered, with a shiver.
"All right," he said. "It's a safe one. But-" He left the sentence unfinished and turned to the window.
She lay back with closed eyes, counting the hard throbs of her heart while she waited. He was very quiet, standing behind her with his face to the storm-driven clouds. She longed to know what was passing in his mind, but she could not break the silence. It held her like a spell while the clock on the mantelpiece ticked the dragging minutes away. She whispered to her racing heart that the moment he moved she would rise and go. But while the silence lasted she could not bring herself to stir. She was worn out physically and mentally, almost too weary for thought.
He moved at length rather suddenly, wheeled round before she was aware, and came back to the fire.
"Don't get up!" he said. "You look ready to drop, and you may just as well hear what I have to say sitting. It won't make a mite of difference."
She raised her eyes to his in unconscious appeal. "I am afraid I have made a mistake," she said.
She saw his smile for a moment. "No, you haven't made a mistake, my girl. You're safe with me. But I wonder if you have the faintest idea now why I want you for my