“The food is ready,” she said, and they all went into the dining-room.

The man did not look up as they entered. He went on stolidly eating his dinner. The serving man brought in the joint and put it on the sideboard; the landlord appeared, and began to carve nervously.

The roast lamb was excellent, and there was no sound in the room except that made by hungry eaters. The big man had finished his dinner; he had turned his chair, and every time Kitty raised her eyes he was looking in her direction. Colour mounted her cheeks; she kept her eyes downcast, but she felt his were on her. He frightened her in a way she had never been frightened before, and she felt suddenly that to go upon a long journey alone and unprotected was something of an undertaking. She glanced at Darrell. How handsome he was, with his rather gentle scholar’s face and the love for her in his grey eyes! He was very slender, and looked almost frail when compared with the arrogant, red-faced, alarming man sitting there in pompous state alone at his table. She stole another glance in his direction. He smiled and tried to hold her eyes. She lifted her head haughtily and turned away.

She said in a whisper to Darrell: “He seems a very coarse creature this man whom the host is so eager to please! Let us get out of here to the parlour; it will be better there.”

They went back to the parlour and sat down in the window seat. Darrell said: “This is Squire Haredon. He is in a vile temper tonight!”

“Haredon!” she said.

“George Haredon!” And she thought of her mother’s playing in the graveyard with that red-faced man.

Darrell said: “You have seen him at his worst; he is in a bad temper. His horse went lame and he has had to put up here instead of getting home as he intended. He is a good squire, but when he is in a rage he can be terrible; everyone avoids the squire when he is in a rage.”

“I should hate him, rage or no rage,” she said.

The door opened and in he came.

“Bah!” he exclaimed. These inns are draughty places.” His rage had left him now; he smiled at them benignly.

“Bless me, if it ain’t young Grey! It is young Grey, ain’t it? And the lady?”

Darrell got to his feet, but it was Kitty who spoke.

“My name is Kitty Kennedy.”

“Kitty Kennedy!” said the squire. He brought his black brows together.

“By God!” he went on.

“Is it to your Aunt Harriet that you are going?”

“It is to my Aunt Harriet.”

He slapped his thigh and laughed deeply.

“I thought I knew you. Why, my lady, you and I are not strangers.”

He towered over her, and she drew farther back in the window seat, pretending not to see the huge hand extended towards her.

“I do not think,” she said with dignity, ‘that you and I have met before.” And she made an almost imperious sign for Darrell to take the seat beside her; there was not room for three on the window seat.

“The squire means.” explained Darrell, sitting down, ‘that he knows your aunt and knew your mother. That is why he does not feel you to be a stranger.”

Trust a lawyer for putting his finger right on the point!” cried George Haredon. That’s right, I knew your family. Kitty. And you’re Bess’s girl! By God, I knew it! You’ve got Bess’s looks.”

She resented his familiarity. She slipped her hand into Darrell’s, and because of a certain fear that had come to her she held her head higher.

George Haredon leaned forward.

“I could almost believe it was Bessie herself sitting there.” he murmured. He breathed heavily, excitedly, and his eyes glistened.

“I have always heard.” said Kitty, coolly, ‘that I much resembled my mother.”

“And, by God, whoever told you that was right!”

He was so close that she could feel the warmth of his body; a smell of spirits was on his breath, and that of horses on his clothes. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and she did not care that he saw this. She turned to Darrell and began to talk of the towns through which they had passed, and when George Haredon joined in she turned the subject to that of Their fellow passengers of whom he could know nothing. Darrell was embarrassed, for he was a good deal in awe of the squire. She thought how beautiful, how cultured, how gentlemanly Darrell was, compared with this man, and because she sensed that he was a little afraid of him she wanted to put her arms round him to protect him; it was a new feeling, this tenderness, a new and wonderful feeling. She made up her mind in that moment that she was going to marry Darrell whatever obstacles had to be overcome. He needed her and she needed him.

George Haredon stood, watching them, his great hands hanging helplessly at his sides. She was aware of those hands; she could not forget the way in which one of them had seized the serving maid, and she knew that he longed to seize her in just that way. He was repulsive; he was hateful; he was arrogant too; he tried to force his way between her and Darrell.

“Why!” he said, coming so close that again she smelt the spirits on his breath.

“Bess made a fine lady of her girl. Trust Bessie for that, And I’ll tell you something I like it. I like it very much.”

Here he was, the arrogant male, strutting in his plumage.

“I like it very much! Are you not flattered? For here I am cock of the walk!” But Kitty would show him she was not one of his country wenches to be cursed one moment and kissed the next. Her eyes kindled; they rested on his flowered waistcoat, spotted where he had spilled his gravy. She wanted him to know that she hated the smell of stables that clung to him, hated his big, hairy, not very clean hands, hated even more his crude manners.

“It does not greatly concern me whether you like it or not,” she told him. I He laughed, but he was nevertheless disconcerted. He was fascinated by the proud set of the head on her shoulders, by that fearlessness, to be expected from Bess’s daughter. The likeness to Bess moved him deeply. She thought him coarse, did she!

Bess, who had never minced her words, had found him so in the old days. Bess’s contempt had pierced the armour of his arrogance, filled him with the desire to beat the pride out of her. That was why Bess had attracted him so strongly. Now it was happening again, with Bess’s daughter in the place of Bess, and this enforced stay at the Dorchester inn was changed from a tiresome incident to an exhilarating adventure.

“So you made the journey all alone, eh?” he said.

“Why, if Harriet had told me, Dammed, I would have travelled up to get you myself, that I would. You should not have been allowed to travel alone.”

She lifted her eyes to Darrell and smiled at him very sweetly.

“Mr. Grey looked after me very well, thank you!”

The devil he did! Trust a lawyer for getting the best out of a situation.”

The door was opened suddenly, and the matron came in with her two daughters.

She said in a loud voice: The lamb was mutton, but edible. Sit down, children … just for a little while. Then we will go to our rooms. I do declare that travelling in this way can be a tiresome business. But there, doubtless we miss our carriage.”

George Haredon was studying the two daughters quizzically; they simpered, casting coy glances in his direction. Their mother was alert, while she made a pretence of great languor.

The squire went to them. Travelling in one’s own carriage can be a tiresome business, Ma’am,” he said.

“Here am I, stranded for the night because one of my horses has gone lame. A devilish business! May I introduce myself? Squire Haredon. at your service. Ma’am.”

He was smiling at the two girls. Their mother presented them.

“My dear daughter, Emily my dear daughter, Grace.”

The squire was out to impress. He sat between the two girls.

“I could have taken another horse, but I’m fond of my horses. It’s nothing much a little lameness. I’ll leave her here tomorrow if she’s not better, but I’ve a fancy that a night’s rest is all she wants.”