in the lives of two lonely girls, he was basely sure of his power to
choose from among them at will. He had no such power at that moment, in
Jenny's mind. He was the clay, for Emmy or herself to mould to their own
advantage.

"You can think yourself _jolly_ lucky; my lad!" she repeated. "I can
tell you that much!"


ii

Jenny leant back in her chair exhausted by her excitement. Alf reached
round for the chair he had left, and brought it to the table. He sat
down, his elbows on the table and his hands clasped; and he looked
directly at Jenny as though he were determined to explode this false
bubble of misunderstanding which she was sedulously creating. As he
looked at her, with his face made keen by the strength of his resolve,
Jenny felt her heart turn to water. She was physically afraid of him,
not because he had any power to move her, but because in sheer
bullock-like strength he was too much for her, as in tenacity he had
equally an advantage. As a skirmisher, or in guerrilla warfare, in which
he might always retire to a hidden fastness, baffling pursuers by
innumerable ruses and doublings, Jenny could hold her own. On the plain,
in face of superior strength, she had not the solid force needed to
resist strong will and clear issues. Alf looked steadily at her, his
reddish cheeks more red, his obstinate mouth more obstinate, so that she
could imagine the bones of his jaws cracking with his determination.

"It won't do, Jen," he said. "And you know it."