Jenny's finer ear first caught the step. Jenny's swifter feelings had
sounded the depths of hope, of joy, of despair, before he entered the
room. Jenny's pale face was the only one that met his, self-possessed
and self-reliant, when he stood before them. An angry flush suffused
even the pink roots of Rance's beard as he rose to his feet. An ominous
fire sprang into Ridgeway's eyes, and a spasm of hate and scorn passed
over the lower part of his face, and left the mouth and jaw immobile and
rigid.

Yet he was the first to speak. "I owe you an apology," he said to Jenny,
with a suave scorn that brought the indignant blood back to her cheek,
"for this intrusion; but I ask no pardon for withdrawing from the only
spot where that man dare confront me with safety."

With an exclamation of rage, Rance sprang toward him. But as quickly
Jenny stood between them, erect and menacing. "There must be no quarrel
here," she said to Rance. "While I protect your right as my guest, don't
oblige me to remind you of mine as your hostess." She turned with a
half-deprecatory air to Ridgeway; but he was gone. So was her father.
Only Rance remained with a look of ill-concealed triumph on his face.

Without looking at him, she passed toward the door. When she reached
it, she turned. "You asked me a question an hour ago. Come to me in the
garden, at nine o'clock tonight, and I will answer you. But promise me,
first, to keep away from Mr. Dent. Give me your word not to seek him--to
avoid him, if he seeks you. Do you promise? It is well."

He would have taken her hand; but she waved him away. In another moment
he heard the swift rustle of her dress in the hall, the sound of her
feet upon the stair, the sharp closing of her bedroom door, and all was