withdrew his hand and turned away. "That may be," he said enigmatically. "And again it may not. Thanks anyway for telling me." He picked up the horsewhip that he had flung down on entering, and began with his square, steady fingers to remove the lash. "You are right. You can't spend another night at 'The Anchor.' If you will allow me, I will find some comfortable rooms where you and Bunny can stay till we can get married. I will go up to-morrow and get a special licence. The marriage might be arranged for Sunday-if that will suit you."
"Next Sunday?" Maud started round and looked at him with startled eyes.
He nodded. "In church. After the eight o'clock service if there is one. Your mother must give you away. Afterwards, we will come on here with the boy." He glanced round at her. "He shall have this room for the daytime, and the one over it to sleep in. I'm sorry there are not two ground-floor rooms for him; but I know how to carry him in comfort. Of course, if necessary this room could be used as a bedroom as well."
He threw down the worn lash and went to a drawer for a new one. Maud still watched him in silence.
"Does that meet with your approval?" he asked at length.
"I think you are-more than good," she said, a tremor of feeling in her voice.
He kept his eyes lowered over his task. "I am not hustling you too much?" he enquired.
She smiled wanly. "I am asking myself if I ought to let you do it," she said. "It doesn't seem very fair to you."
"It chances to be the thing I want," said Jake, his fingers still busy. "And I reckon you won't disappoint me-won't draw back? I can count on you?"
She rose, turning fully towards him. "You can certainly count on me," she said. "But are you really sure you meant it? It isn't going to spoil your life?"
Jake stood upright with a jerk. She met the extraordinary brightness of his eyes with an odd mixture of boldness and reluctance.
"My girl," he said, in his queer, anomalous drawl, "there ain't a man anywhere in God's universe who knows what he wants better than I do. If I didn't want this thing I shouldn't ask for it. See?" He came to her with the words, and laid one finger on her arm. "Don't you know it's your friendship I'm after?" he said, with a touch of aggressiveness. "Why, I've been after it ever since that night I found you down in the dark alone on the edge of the parade. You were up against it that night, weren't you? And didn't like me over much for butting in. Do you know what you made me think of? A forlorn princess of the Middle Ages. There's a mediæval flavour about you. I don't know where you keep it. But it makes me feel mediæval too."
She drew back a little, stiffened ever so slightly. Something in her resented the freedom of his speech. Something rose in swift revolt and clamoured to be gone.
He must have seen her gesture, her quick, protesting blush; for he turned almost instantly and jerked the whip-lash through his fingers, testing it.
A fitful gleam of sunshine suddenly pierced the clouds behind him and shone on his bent head. His hair gleamed like burnished copper. The tawny glint of it made her think of an animal-a beast of prey, alert, merciless, primeval.
She put on her hat. "I must be getting back to Bunny," she said.
"I am coming with you," said Jake.
She looked at him sharply. "You will walk?"
"Yes, I shall walk."
She pointed with nervous abruptness to the whip he held. "Then you won't want that."
Jake smiled, and tested the whip again without speaking.
Maud waited a moment; then steadily she spoke. "You realized of course, that when I told you about Mr. Sheppard's behaviour of last night, it was in strict confidence?"
Jake squared his broad shoulders. "All right, my girl. It's safe with me," he said. "There shan't be any scandal."
Maud was very white, but quite resolute. "Jake," she said, "you are not to do it."
He raised his brows.
"You are not to do it!" she said again, with vehemence. "I mean it! I mean it! The quarrel is not yours. You are not to make it so." She paused, and suddenly caught her breath. "Oh, don't look at me like that! You make me-afraid!"
Jake turned and tossed the whip down on the window-seat. "You've nothing to be afraid of," he said rather curtly. "You're making your own bugbear. P'raps it's natural," he added, with abrupt gentleness. "You've had a lot to bear lately. There! I've done what you asked. We had better get back while it's fine."
He unlocked and opened the door, standing back for her to pass.
He kept his eyes downcast as she went through, and she knew that it was in response to her appeal that he did so. She tingled with a burning embarrassment, which vanished all in a moment as he said: "Say, now, do you mind if I light my pipe before I follow you? Don't wait! I'll catch you up."
And she made her way out into the fleeting sunlight and racing wind with a strong sense of relief. The pipe was not a particularly aristocratic feature of Jake's existence, but it was an extremely characteristic one, and it placed matters on a normal footing at once. Jake was never disconcerting or formidable when he was smoking a pipe. She consented to it gladly.
And Jake turned back into the room with a grim smile on his lips, picked up a letter from the table, and thrust it deep into the fire.
After that he lighted his pipe with the charred remnants thereof, and followed Maud into the open.
CHAPTER XIV
THE WAY OF ESCAPE
The sun shone out again as they went down the hill, and the sea gleamed below them like a sheet of silver.
"You like this place?" asked Jake.
"I could like it," she made answer.
He smiled. "Then I reckon you shall. Say, does Bunny know about your coming up here to me?"
She coloured deeply. "He knew I came, yes. He did not know why."
Jake was still smiling. "Guess he'll be pleased," he said. He added, between puffs at his pipe: "We'll make him happy between us. We'll give him the time of his life."
She drew a deep breath. Surely no sacrifice was too great for that!
They passed the church on the hill, and descended the steep road to the town.
"There are some rooms I know of along this road," said Jake. "Kept by the wife of one of our stable-men. Shall we go in and have a look at 'em?"
She hesitated. "Bunny will wonder where I am."
He glanced at her. "Well, look here! You leave me to see to it. I'll fix up something, and then I'll come on after you and we'll get the boy away."
She met his look somewhat doubtfully.
"Why not?" said Jake.
She answered him with an effort. "You do understand, don't you, that I couldn't-I can't-accept help from you before-before-our marriage?"
"Why not?" he said again. "Reckon you mean to stick to your bargain?"
"Oh,
