Stukeley watched his friend with careless tolerance, ringing the bell meanwhile, with a hand stretched idly behind him. He laughed lightly, bidding Haly to be of good cheer. When Jessie came, in answer to the bell, he bade his friend good morning, and bowed him out. Haly disappeared, cursing. When he had gone, Stukeley wondered if he had done wisely in choking off Haly so soon. He had made up his mind, during the months of his honeymoon, to break with his old circle; for his wife’s friends were rich and powerful, and his own friends, being men about town, had never been more to him than flash companions. Besides, he realized that a man like Haly was hardly likely to bring him credit with his new acquaintances. And anyhow his headache made him devilish, and he had had pleasure in seeing the horse-face flush, and the little mean eyes blink with anger. He did not set much store by the man’s threats. If old Bent had come to Salcombe after him, he would see his victim, whether Haly helped or refused to help. He did not rightly know what he could say to old Bent, and his head was throbbing and in pain; he could not think. Jessie returned to clear away; but even Jessie would not comfort him, for missus was in the next room and could hear every word. “Perhaps after dinner,” said Jessie. Something in the girl’s coyness stirred his lust. He caught hold of her, shutting the door with his disengaged hand. “You are a naughty man,” said Jessie reprovingly. He drew her head back and kissed her lips and throat. Something in the girl amused him and excited him. He was conscious of a sudden anger against Olivia. She needed some devil of wantonness, he thought. She never moved him as this tavern trollop moved him. “Do you love me?” said Jessie. “Yes,” he said passionately. “I seen you look at me,” said Jessie. It had been love at first sight. While they kissed, Olivia’s voice sounded clearly in the passage. “I’ll see him in the breakfast-room, with Mr. Stukeley.” “Oh law!” said Jessie, wrenching herself free. “Go inside, Mr. Stukeley. Don’t let’s be seen together.” “Bent already,” said Stukeley, slipping into the inner room. He went so quickly that Jessie’s question, “Is my hair tidy?” was unanswered. As Jessie dabbed at her hair before the mirror, Olivia entered. She thought that Jessie’s heightened colour and nervous manner were signs that she was ashamed of being caught at a glass. She smiled at the girl, who smiled back at her as she hurried to remove her tray. Had Olivia looked at Jessie as she left the room with the table-cloth, the trollop’s gaze of confident contempt would have puzzled her; she might, perhaps, have found it disquieting.