What had he expected? To find her gone? To
find her still sitting defiantly where he had left her? To see her
crying, perhaps on her knees before him, beseeching him? Anything but
not this.

She could see that he was astonished and was resolved not to let her
know it.

He moved past her without a word, and went into the other room. She
said nothing, but bent over the sausages. They were sizzling and flung
out a splendid smell.

He came back without his hat and coat. He stood by the bedroom door and
slowly looked round the room, taking everything in.

"I thought you'd have gone," he said; "I warned you."

She looked up at him, laughing:

"I haven't," she said. "Whatever happens afterwards, Martin, we may as
well have one meal together. I'm very hungry. I know you'll forgive my
using your room like this, but I didn't want to go to a shop. So I just
brought the things in here."

His eyes lighted on the hyacinth.

"I know what your game is," he said huskily. "But it isn't any good.
You may as well chuck it."

"All right," she said. "After we've had a meal."

Straightening herself up from the heat of the fire she had a terrible
temptation then to go to him. It overwhelmed her in a flood; her knees
and hands trembled. She wanted just to touch his arm, to put her hand
on his shoulder. But she knew that she must not.

"Sit down for a bit," she said very quietly, "and let's have our meal.
There's nothing terrible in that, Martin. I've not put poison in your
food or anything and the sausages do smell nice."

To her surprise he sat down, suddenly collapsing as though he were too
tired to stand any longer. He said nothing more. She finished the
sausages, put them on the table, then took a saucepan (also Emily's
gift), filled it with water and put in the eggs.

"Come on," she said gently, "or the sausages will get cold."

He went then to the table, cut off some bread and began to eat
ravenously. Her heart felt a dim distant triumph when she saw that he
was so hungry, but it was too early to feel triumph yet.

She came to the table and began to eat, although she felt no hunger.

"You're married, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes," she answered.

"Where's your husband?"

"A place called Skeaton."

"Well, you'd better get back there to-night--"

"I'm staying in London for a day or two."

"Where?"

"Here. I've got a bedroom upstairs."

"You can do what you damn well please," he said. "It doesn't matt