Haven’t I shown you over and over again that I mean you no harm? What do I have to do?’ ‘You can go away and leave me to my affairs,’ she threw at him. I want to know who sent you those. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. Then she went below. There’s always friction, conflict, unwilling concessions. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came.
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