"You haven't," he said. "And p'raps this isn't the time to tell you. You've come to me for refuge-as I hoped you would-and I shan't abuse your confidence. But, you know, I had a reason."
He paused, but she still said nothing. Only she could not meet his eyes any longer. She looked away into the fire, waiting for him to continue.
"Say, now," he said, after a moment, "if I make a bargain with you, you won't accuse me of taking advantage of your position?"
She winced a little. "I wish you-to forget-that I ever said that."
"All right. It is forgotten," said Jake. "I'll go ahead. We haven't mentioned Bunny though I take it he is a fairly big factor in the case. That is to say, if it hadn't been for Bunny, you would never have taken this step."
Maud's eyes went swiftly up to his. "But of course I shouldn't!" she said quickly. "I thought you understood that."
"I quite understand," said Jake. "I assure you I'm not taking anything for granted. But now-I want to put it to you-supposing the impossible happened, supposing Bunny were cured, – yes, it's only the hundredth chance, I know-still, just for a moment, suppose it! Bunny cured, able to look after himself like other lads. You would be married to me. What then?"
"What then?" She repeated the words, still with an effort meeting his look.
He made a slight gesture with one hand. "You would stick to me?"
The hot colour flooded her face and neck. "Of course," she said, her voice very low. "That goes without saying."
He bent slowly towards her. "Maud, if we ever live alone together, it must be as man and wife."
His voice was low too, but she heard in it a deep note that seemed to pierce through and through her. His eyes drew and held her own. She wanted to avoid them but could not. They burned like the red, inner heart of a furnace.
The blood receded from her face. She felt it go. "We-need never live alone," she said faintly.
He held out a quiet hand to her. "P'raps not. But I should like your promise to that, all the same." He paused a moment; then added: "I have sworn already to be good to you, remember."
She laid her hand in his. She could not do otherwise. He held it and waited.
"Very well," she said at last, her voice almost a whisper. "I-agree."
He let her go, and straightened himself. "It's a deal, then," he said. "And now for more immediate details. You've decided to marry me, and I gather you don't mind how soon?"
He picked up a clay pipe from the mantelpiece, and knocked out some ash against the fireplace.
Maud watched him with a curious species of fascination. There was something in the man's serenity of mien that puzzled her, something that did not go with those fiery, possessive eyes.
He looked at her with a smile that was half-quizzical, half-kindly, and her heart began to beat more freely.
"We must somehow get away from 'The Anchor' to-day," she said. "I have a little money. Perhaps if you would help me to move Bunny, we could go into lodgings again until-"
"I have a little money too," said Jake. "And I will certainly help you. But first, – do you object to telling me what has been happening at 'The Anchor'?"
She coloured again vividly, painfully, but he was fully engrossed with the filling of his pipe and did not notice her embarrassment.
"To begin with," she said with difficulty, "he-Mr. Sheppard-has turned us out of the room downstairs. He carried Bunny off himself to an attic under the roof, and hurt him horribly. I was driven nearly mad at the time." She broke off, shuddering at the remembrance.
Jake frowned. "Go on!" he said briefly.
She went on with increasing difficulty. "That happened yesterday. I hoped you would come round in the afternoon or evening, but you didn't."
"I couldn't get away," he interpolated. "Yes? And then?"
"Then-in the evening-that is, late at night-" Maud stumbled like a nervous child-"I went down to fetch something and he-he came in after me, half-tipsy; and-and-he-" She halted suddenly. "I can't go on!" she said, with quivering lips.
Jake laid aside his pipe and stooped over her. "Did he beat you, or did he make love to you? Which?" he said.
There was a sound in his voice like the growl of an angry beast. She could not look him in the face.
"Tell me!" he said, and laid an imperative hand on her shoulder. "You need never tell anyone else."
She shrank a little. "I don't see why I should tell you," she said reluctantly.
"You must tell me," said Jake with decision.
And, after brief hesitation, miserably, with face averted, she yielded and told him. After all, why should he not know? Her dainty pride was crushed for ever. She could sink no lower.
"He held me down and thrashed me-with his slipper. I was in my night-dress, and-and it was rather a brutal thrashing. Perhaps some women wouldn't have minded it much; but I-I am not used to that kind of treatment. I hope you will never beat me, Jake. I don't bear it very heroically."
She tried to laugh, but it was a piteous little sound that came from her quivering throat.
Jake's hand closed upon her shoulder. She seemed to feel the whole man vibrate behind it like a steel spring. Yet he made no comment whatever. "Go on!" he said, his voice short and stern. "Tell me everything!"
She braced herself to finish. "He went on till he was tired. I believe I was wailing like a baby, but no one heard. And then-and then-he suddenly discovered that I was a woman and not a naughty child, and he-he-kissed me." She shuddered suddenly and violently. "That's nearly all," she ended. "I got away from him, heaven knows how. And I got back to Bunny. I didn't tell him everything, but I couldn't help him knowing I was upset. We neither of us slept all night. And the night before was a bad one too. That's how I came to be so idiotic just now."
She leaned slowly back in her chair till she rested against the hand he had laid upon her.
"Do you know," she said tremulously, after a moment, "I think it has actually done me good to tell you? You are very kind to me, Jake."
He withdrew his hand and turned away. "That may be," he said enigmatically. "And again it may not. Thanks anyway for telling me." He picked up the horsewhip that he had flung down on entering, and began with his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. "You are right. You can't spend another night at 'The Anchor.' If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The marriage might be arranged for Sunday-if that will suit you."
"Next Sunday?" Maud started round and looked at him with startled eyes.
He nodded. "In church. After the eight o'clock service if there is one. Your mother must give you away. Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy." He glanced round at her. "He shall have this room for the daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I'm sorry there are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room could be used as a bedroom as well."
He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a new one. Maud still watched him in silence.
"Does that meet with your approval?" he asked at length.
"I think you are-more than good," she said, a tremor of feeling in her voice.
He kept his eyes lowered over his task. "I am not hustling you too much?" he enquired.
She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you."
"It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me-won't draw back? I can count on you?"
She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on