Chapter 13

It was no custom of his to outstay other people; in fact, he
usually went away comparatively early. Feather could not imagine
what his reason could be, but she was sure there was a reason.
She was often disturbed by his reasons, and found it difficult to
adjust herself to them. How--even if one had a logically brilliant
mind--could one calculate on a male being, who seemed not exactly
to belong to the race of men.

As a result of the skirt dancing, the furniture of the empty
drawing-room was a little scattered and untidy, but Feather had
found a suitable corner among cushions on a sofa, after everyone
had gone leaving Coombe alone with her. She wished he would sit
down, but he preferred to stand in his still, uncomfortable way.

"I know you are going to tell me something," she broke the silence.

"I am. When I went out of the room, I did not drive round to my
club as I said I found myself obliged to. I went upstairs to the
third floor--to the Nursery."

Feather sat quite upright.

"YOU went up to the Nursery!" If this was the reason for his staying,
what on earth had he come upon in the region of the third floor,
and how ridiculously unlike him to allow himself to interfere.
Could it be Andrews and Jennings? Surely Andrews was too old.--This
passed across her mind in a flash.

"You called Andrews to use her authority with the child when she
would not shake hands with me. The little creature, for some reason
of her own, evidently feels an antipathy to me. That interested
me and I watched her as Andrews whispered in her ear. The woman's
vanity was stung. I realized that she whispered a threat. A hint
of actual ferocity showed in her eyes in spite of herself. Robin
turned pale."

"Andrews was quite right. Children must be punished when they are
rude." Feather felt this at once silly and boring. What did he
know about such matters?

"The child said, 'Andrews will pinch me!' and I caught Andrews' eye
and knew it was true--also that she had done it before. I looked
at the woman's long, thin, strong fingers. They were cruel fingers.
I do not take liberties, as a rule, but I took a liberty. I excused
myself and climbed three flights of stairs."

Never had Feather been so surprised in her life. She looked like
a bewildered child.

"But--what COULD it matter to YOU?" she said in soft amaze.

"I don't know," his answer came after a moment's pause. "I have
caprices of mood. Certain mental images made my temperature rise.
Momentarily it did matter. One is like that at times. Andrews'
feline face and her muscular fingers--and the child's extraordinarily
exquisite