She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black. Nigel, do you know that I have been very jealous?” He avoided the invitation of her eyes. The room was dark and dusty. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. “Thank you—for coming,” he said. She thought of an old abandoned barn that she could inhabit further downriver, but shrugged off the idea in disdain. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house.
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