"No." She merely framed the word, sighing.

"You're wrong, Jenny." Keith's voice changed. He deliberately looked
round the table at the little dishes that still lay there untouched.
"Have some of these sweets, will you.... No?" Jenny could only draw her
breath sharply, shaking her head. "Almonds, then?" She moved
impatiently, her face distorted with wretched exasperation. As if he
could see that, and as if fear of the outcome hampered his resolution,
Keith hurried on. "Well, look here: we'll clear the table together, if
you like. Take the things through the other cabin--_that_ one--to the
galley; root up the table by its old legs--I'll show you how its'
done;--and then we can have a talk. I'll ... I'll tell you as much as I
can about everything you want to know. That do?"

"I can't stay long. I've left Pa in bed." She could not keep the note of
roughness from her pleading voice, although shame at being petulant was
struggling with her deeper feeling.

"Well, he won't want to get up again yet, will he?" Keith answered
composedly. Oh, he had nerves of steel! thought Jenny. "I mean, this
_is_ his bedtime, I suppose?" There was no answer. Jenny looked at the
tablecloth, numbed by her sensations. "Do you have to look after him all
the time? That's a bit rough..."

"No," was forced from Jenny. "No, I don't ... not generally. But
to-night--but that's a long story, too. With rows in it." Which made
Keith laugh. He laughed not quite naturally, forcing the last several
jerks of his laughter, so that she shuddered at the thought of his
possible contempt. It was as if everything she said was lost before
ever it reached his heart--as if the words were like weak blows against