FullReads

He had the key in his hand. He stooped to insert it in the lock. But swiftly she caught his wrist. “Jeff, stop–stop!” she gasped; and, as he looked at her: “I’m not going away now!”

He wrung his hand free. “You had better go–for your own sake!” he said.

She flinched in spite of herself from the blazing menace of his eyes, but again necessity spurred her. She stretched out her arms, barring his way.

“I won’t! I can’t! Jeff–Jeff–for Heaven’s sake–Jeff!” Her voice broke into wild entreaty. He had taken her roughly by the shoulders, pulling her from his path. He would have put her from him, but she snatched her opportunity and clung to him fast with all her quivering strength.

He stood still then, suddenly rigid. “I have warned you!” he said, in a voice so deep with passion that her heart quailed and ceased to beat.

“Let me go!”

But she only tightened her trembling hold. “You shan’t go, Jeff! You shan’t insult Hugh Chesyl! He is a gentleman!”

“Is he?” said Jeff, very bitterly.

She could feel his every muscle strung and taut, ready for uncontrolled violence. Yet still with her puny strength she held him, for she dared not let him go.

“Jeff, listen to me! You must listen! Hugh is my very good friend–no more than that. He has come here to say ‘Good-bye.’ I left a note for him on my way here, just to tell him I was going. He is my friend–only my friend.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Jeff.

She shrank as if he had struck her, but her hands still clutched his coat. She attempted no further protestations, only stood with her white face lifted and clear eyes fixed on his. The red fire that shone fiercely back on her was powerless to subdue her steady regard, though she felt as though it scorched her through and through.

From the platform came the shriek of the guard’s whistle. The train was departing.

Doris heard it go with a sick sense of despair. She knew that her liberty went with it. As the last carriage passed she spoke again.

“I will go back with you now.”

“If I will take you back,” said Jeff.

Her hands clenched upon his coat. An awful weakness had begun to assail her. She fought against it desperately.

Someone tried the handle of the door, pulled at it and desisted. She caught her breath. Jeff’s hand went out to open, but she shifted her grasp, and again gripped his wrist.

“Wait! Wait!” she whispered through her white lips.

This time he did not shake her off. He stood with his eyes on hers and waited.

The man on the other side of the door, evidently concluding that the waiting-room had not been opened that day, gave up the attempt and passed on. With straining ears Doris listened to his departing footsteps. A few seconds later she saw Jeff’s eyes go to the farther window. Her own followed them. Hugh Chesyl, clad in a long grey ulster, was tramping away through the snow.

He passed from sight, and Doris relaxed her hold. Her face was white and spent. “Will you take me home?” she said faintly.

Slowly Jeff’s eyes came back to her, dwelt upon her. He must have seen the exhaustion in her face, but his own showed no softening.

He spoke at last sternly, with grim mastery. “If I take you back it must be on a different footing. You tell me this man is no more to you than a friend. I am even less. Do you think I will be satisfied with that?”

“I have tried to make you my friend,” she said.

“And you have failed,” he said. “Shall I tell you why? Or can you guess?”

She was silent.

He clenched his hands hard against his sides. “You know what happened yesterday,” he said. “It had nearly happened a hundred times before. I kept it back till it got too strong for me. You dangled your friendship before me till I was nearly mad with the want of you. You had better have offered me nothing at all than that.”