“Stay.” “I will.” She flashed a wonderful look at him of a sudden and tightened her fingers for one moment about his wrist. Jeffray colored as he drew his sword and watched Bess move towards the window. Stepping back to where the inner wall of the room lay in deep shadow, he heard the panting of the dog and the rasp of Dan’s gruff voice as he called the brute to heel. Bess drew back from the window and came gliding along the wall towards Jeffray. He understood that she had caught a glimpse of Dan or of the dog, and that their one hope was that the man might pass by and keep the spaniel at his heel. Bess drew close to Jeffray and leaned back against the wall where the darkness lay. Their hands touched and held each other. A strong thrill passed up Jeffray’s arm. He could feel the warmth of Bess’s body as she half leaned against him. She was holding her breath and watching the stretch of sward that showed through the doorway. Again they heard Dan calling to the dog. He was passing by the pool, and they could catch his heavy foot-falls on the grass. The footsteps ceased of a sudden, and they could hear the panting of the dog quite near. Jeffray felt the pressure of Bess’s fingers. They looked into each other’s eyes—one long look that seemed to challenge fate. Dan’s harsh hail rang out again. “Heel, Doll, heel—you bitch!” The spaniel whimpered wistfully. They heard her move through the long grass, splash through the shallows of the pool, the sound of her breathing growing less and less. They saw Dan go striding past the doorway, his gun over his shoulder, a hare dangling by the legs from his left hand. In a flash he was gone, the black spaniel padding at his heels and looking back restlessly from time to time. Bess gave a great sigh and leaned heavily against Jeffray. Somehow the man’s arm had crept round her, and he felt the full ebb and flow of her breath. The warmth of her body seemed to steal into him with a sense of nearness and of contact. Her head was half resting on his shoulder, her hair brushing his cheek. “Bess.” She turned her head and looked up at him, half wearily, yet with a tired tenderness. Her eyes seemed doubly bright in the cool darkness of the place. “He has gone.” “Thank God.” XXXIII