Lorimer, in a peculiar tone.
She turned her face from him again, but he leaned slowly forward in his
chair and taking her chin between his finger and thumb turned it
deliberately back again.
She shrank a little, but she did not resist him. He looked searchingly
into her eyes. The lids flickered nervously under his gaze, but he did
not relax his scrutiny.
"Well?" he said.
Her lips quivered. She said nothing.
But her silence was enough. He released her abruptly and dropped back in
his chair without another word.
She sank down trembling against his knee, and there followed a most
painful pause. Through the stillness there crept again the faint
strains of distant music. Someone was playing the Soldiers' March out
of _Faust_ on the old cracked schoolroom piano, which was rising nobly
to the occasion.
Mr. Lorimer moved at length and turned his head. "Who is that playing?"
"Piers Evesham," whispered Mrs. Lorimer. She was weeping softly and dared
not stir lest he should discover the fact.
There was a deep, vertical line between Mr. Lorimer's brows. "And what
may Piers Evesham be doing here?" he enquired.
"He comes often--to see Jeanie," murmured his wife deprecatingly.
He laughed unpleasantly. "A vast honour for Jeanie!"
Two tears fell from Mrs. Lorimer's eyes. She began to feel furtively for
her handkerchief.
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