As she stared her eyes grew accustomed to the night; and she discovered five persons instead of four. Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. She's the boss. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. Beyond was an avenue of tall poplars that rose like columns, disappearing into undulating hills that were black with sleeping houses and fertile soil. At times he seemed to be claiming pity from her; at times he was threatening her with her check and exposure; at times he was boasting of his inflexible will, and how, in the end, he always got what he wanted. Nobody regards Constance or Vee as a delicate trifle. There had been disappointments and humiliations, and although she hated to admit it even to herself, she was in desperate straits.
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