There was another pause, a longer one. Then Queenie gave utterance to a
little sob. Dudley, who was sitting on the table at which she was at
work, got upon his feet with an impatient movement. His dark face looked
hard and angry. As he paced once or twice up and down the small space
available in the disordered room, the inward fight which was going on
between his passion and his sense of right convulsed his face, and
Queenie shuddered as, glancing at him, she fancied she could see in the
glare of his black eyes the haunting madness at which he seemed so
plainly to have hinted.

She rose in her turn.

"But, Dudley--" she began.

And then, unable to express what she felt, what she thought, any better
than he had done, she turned abruptly away and sat down again.

There was silence for a few moments, and then she heard the door close.
Looking round, she saw that he had left the room.




CHAPTER VI.

THE LITTLE STONE PASSAGE.


Queenie kept Dudley's half-confessed secret to herself for the whole of
that day. She was hoping against hope that he would change his mind