Will O’ the Wisp (2016)
“Her sense of injury and self-pity passed into cold, constraining fear. David hadn’t moved at all; he stood with his hands clenched looking past her. It was David, whom she had never been afraid of in her life; and she was so much afraid that she could not speak. The ticking of the old gilt clock on the mantelpiece seemed to grow louder and louder.
Betty sat huddled up in the sofa corner just as she had fallen when David thrust her away. The pink cushion that should have been behind her shoulders had slipped sideways and was crunched up under her right elbow. She wanted to move it to shift her position, but the cold fear held her motionless.
The clock went on ticking.
David spoke at last. He spoke, but he didn’t move.
“Tell me what you did with that letter.”
Betty was able to move again. When David spoke, she stopped being so much afraid of him. She began to grope for her pocket-handkerchief.
“I—I didn’t—”
“Tell me what you know about the letter. You had better not tell me any lies.”
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