That look of exultation in her
husband's eyes had changed everything.
"Sit down, I want to speak to you," she said.
She was surprised by the calm sound of her own voice.
Lord Holme looked astonished. He shifted the bandage on his hand and
stood where he was.
"Sit down," she repeated.
"Well!" he said.
And he sat down.
"I suppose you came up here to turn me out of the house?" she said.
"You deserve it," he muttered.
But even now he did not look angry. There was a sort of savage glow on
his face. It was evident that the violent physical effort he had just
made, and the success of it, had irresistibly swept away his fury for the
moment. It might return. Probably it would return. But for the moment it
was gone. Lady Holme knew Fritz, and she knew that he was feeling good
all over. The fact that he could feel thus in such circumstances set the
brute in him before her as it had never been set before--in a glare of
light.
"And what do you deserve?" she asked.
All her terror had gone utterly. She felt mistress of herself.
"When I went to thrash Carey he was so drunk I couldn't touch him. This
feller showed fight but he was a baby in my hands. I could do anything I
liked with him," said Lord Holme. "Gad! Talk of boxin'--"
He looked at his bandaged hand and laughed again triumphantly. Then,
suddenly, a sense of other things than his physical strength seemed to
return upon him.
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