Mr. and Mrs. Rodman to lunch alone.
Then he returned to an earlier point of the discussion.

'You say it was thick with dust?'

'It was. I believe the lower cupboard has never been open since Mr.
Mutimer's death.'

'Why should he take a will to church with him?'

Adela shook her head.

'If he did,' Mutimer pursued, 'I suppose it was to think over the new
one he was going to make. You know, of course, that he never intended
_this_ to be his will?'

'We do not know what his last thoughts may have been,' Adela replied, in
a low voice but firmly.

'Yes, I think we do. I mean to say, we are quite sure he meant to alter
_this_. Yottle was expecting the new will.'

'Death took him before he could make it. He left this.'

Her quiet opposition was breath to the fire of his jealousy. He could no
longer maintain his voice of argument.

'It just means this: you won't hear anything against the will, and
you're glad of it.'

'Your loss is mine.'

He looked at her and again drew nearer.

'It's not very likely that you'll stay to share it.'

'Stay?' She watched his movements with apprehension. 'How can I separate
my future from yours?'

He desired to touch her, to give some sign of his mastery, whether
tenderly or with rude force mattered little.

'It's easy to say that, but we know it doesn't mean much.'

His tongue stammered. As Adela rose and tried to move apart, he caught
her arm roughly, then her waist, and kissed her several times about
the face. Released, she sank back upon the chair, pale, tern fled; her
breath caught with voiceless sobs. Mutimer turned away and leaned his
arms upon the mantelpiece. His body trembled.

Neither could count the minutes that followed. An inexplicable shame
kept Mutimer silent and motionless. Adela, when the shock of repugnance
had passed over, almost forgot the subject of their conversation in vain
endeavours to understand this man in whose power she was. His passion
was mysterious, revolting--impossible for her to reconcile with his
usual bearing, with his character as she understood it. It was more
than a year since he had mingled his talk to her with any such sign of
affection, and her feeling was one of outrage. What protection had she?
The caresses had followed upon an insult, and were themselves brutal,
degrading. It was a realisation of one of those half-formed fears which
had so long haunted her in his presence.

What would life be with him, away from the protectio