Had he refrained from smiling, or if he had just simply and humorously
smiled, she would undoubtedly have let the matter drop there. But
something new in the glint of his eye and the self-willed curl of his
lips struck an unexpected flint within Stella. Her own eyes gleamed a
little, and she grew whiter.
“If we had the kind of big town house I once pictured, it would be a very
different thing. But here we are on this island instead, and you don’t
know what my housework has come to mean or you wouldn’t talk of sending
up Ainu women to take it away from me!”
“Don’t carry on like a child, Stella,” he said, with a little heat. For,
though there was sense in her words, he did not like the tone. It hadn’t
a traditional ring, and—well, he didn’t like it.
“I’m not carrying on like a child.” Her voice sounded strained to her,
and she was growing a bit hysterical. “Please tell them not to come.”
He whistled softly, and after a rather tense pause announced: “They’re
coming early in the morning, Stella.” There was a fling of his finely
sculptured head.
“Then you’ll have to take charge of them!” she blazed out, with a flash
of spirit which checked and amazed him. It was the first gauntlet of
their life together—a gauntlet surcharged with fiendish irony.
How the issue might have carried itself had Stella proceeded in the same
fashion is problematical; but when, amazed at the state of affairs, and
with her heart already much shaken, she took in spite of herself a step
inimical to progress by surrendering to tears again, King shrugged and
left the room, a smile still torturing his lips.
There was a smugness about his victory which made the girl writhe.