They heard his steps coming along the passage, heavy, deliberate steps. Mary moved quickly away from the door, but Elizabeth stood still, and David Blake touched her dress as he came back into the room and shut the door behind him. His hair was wet from a liberal application of cold water. His face was less flushed and his eyes had lost the vacant look. He was obviously making a very great effort, and as obviously Mary had no intention of responding to it. She stood and looked at him, and ceased to be afraid. This was not the stranger who had frightened her. This was David Blake again, the man whom she could play upon, and control. The fright in her eyes gave place to a dancing spark of anger. “I thought I asked you to go away,” she said, and David winced at the coldness of her voice. “Will you please go?” “Mary——” “If you want to apologise you can do so later—when you are _fit_,” said Mary, her brows arched over very scornful eyes. David was still making a great effort at self-control. He had turned quite white, and his eyes had rather a dazed look. “Mary, don’t,” he said, and there was so much pain in his voice that Elizabeth made a half step towards him, and then stopped, because it was not any comfort of hers that he desired. Mary’s temper was up, and she was not to be checked. She meant to have her say, and if it hurt David, why, so much the better. He had given her a most dreadful fright, and he deserved to be hurt. It would be very good for him. Anger reinforced by a high moral motive is indeed a potent weapon. Mary wielded it unmercifully. “Don’t—don’t,” she said. “Oh, of course not. You behave disgracefully—you take advantage of Edward’s being away—you come here drunk—and I’m not to say a word——” Her eyes sparkled, and her head was high. She gave a little angry laugh, and turned towards the bell. “Will you go, please, or must I ring for Markham?” At her movement, and the sound of her laughter, David’s self-control gave way, suddenly and completely. The blood rushed violently to his head. He took a long step towards her, and she stopped where she was in sheer terror. “You laugh,” he said, in a low tone of concentrated passion—“you laugh——” Then his voice leaped into fury. “I’ve sold my soul for you, and you laugh. I’m in hell for you, and you laugh. I’m drunk, and you laugh. My God, for that at least you shall never laugh at me again. By God, you shan’t——” He stood over her for a moment, looking down on her with terrible eyes. Then he turned and went stumbling to the door, and so out, and, in the dead silence that followed, they heard the heavy front door swing to behind him. Mary was clinging to a chair. “Oh, Liz,” she whispered faintly, but Elizabeth turned and went out of the room without a single word. CHAPTER X EDWARD IS PUT OUT