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As I said, she hadn't
shed a tear.
The situation she was confronted with now was beyond tears. Portia's
stinging words went over and over through her mind. "If you let the big
thing slip out of your hands because you haven't the pluck to fight ..."
and her own, "I promise I won't do that." It would mean a fight. She
must keep her head.
She gave a last panicky shiver when she heard his latch-key, then
pulled herself together.
"Come in here, Roddy," she called, as he reached the head of the stairs.
"I want to talk about something."
He had hoped, evidently, to find her abed and fast asleep. His cautious
footfalls on the stairs made clear his intention not to waken her.
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, pausing in the doorway to her dressing-room,
but not coming in. "I didn't know you meant to sit up for me. If I'd
known you were waiting, I'd have come back sooner. But we got to talking
and we were at the hotel before we knew it, and it was so long since I'd
seen them ..."
"I haven't minded," she told him.


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