Part 36 (1/2)
”It seems to me that you go out a great deal lately. It may be as well for you to remember how we stand financially.”
”Oh, it will be all right, dearest,” he said, kissing her. ”Don't be lonely to-night, pet, and I will promise to stay with you in future.”
Rene was satisfied, for she believed Max would do as he promised, and she was really quite happy again, when the next evening he drew on his slippers, and ordered two gla.s.ses and a bottle of choice wine, and sitting back in his easy-chair, lit his cigar with an air of perfect content.
”Rene, darling,” he said after a few moments' silence, ”don't you think it is growing a little monotonous, living as we do?”
”Perhaps it is.”
”Don't you think we had better move to San Francisco in the Spring?”
”Perhaps we had. I am getting really anxious to mingle once more in society. You know I have a great many acquaintances there,” said Irene.
”That is what I was thinking, and I thought, perhaps, you would begin to feel the need of society, since you were once such a society woman.”
”Oh, I have been very happy since I left New York, and do not care very much about going away, but, of course, one needs a change.”
”Certainly, my love, and you are too beautiful to be caged up like a bird.”
Irene smiled and drew her chair close to his side.
”I don't want my wife's beauty entirely hidden from the world. I want others to know what a lovely wife I possess. You see, Scott was selfish, and he wanted to keep you right under his eye, but I want you to be happy. By the way, do you ever think of that fellow any more?”
”Oh, dear, no, not any more than I can help. To be sure, I sometimes wonder what he is about, and if he is married again, as I am, but I don't suppose he is, for he always had such a very old-fas.h.i.+oned idea of right and wrong.”
”He never knew what love was, not such love as mine; he never can know, he is not capable. But tell me truly, darling, do you never wish yourself back with him?”
Irene tried to think whether she really did, or ever had wished herself back in Scott Wilmer's home. She tried to find if there was any reasons why she should say she wished herself back, but she looked up at the man beside her, and the charm of the serpent completely surrounded her. How very handsome he looked, sitting there in his amber-colored dressing gown, holding a highly scented cigar between the tips of his white fingers. Really he was the handsomest man she had ever seen.
”No,” she said at length, ”I shall never wish myself back with him--never--unless, of course, that you should leave me.”
”What foolish talk. As though I could leave you. But are you sure you have told the truth?”
”Why, yes. I never did love him as I love you.”
Irene may have spoken the truth, but there were times when the manly form of Scott Wilmer would cross her vision, and his fine hazel eyes look down into her very soul, reading all the deception there, and the very honesty of his gaze would cause a s.h.i.+ver to pa.s.s over her; but she would drive away the shadow by calling before her the handsomest face she had ever seen--that of her betrayer, and she would not have retraced her steps if she could.
”Rene, darling,” Max said, with his gaze fixed on the rich carpet, ”you should talk to that papa of yours. I saw him play a game of cards last night that ran very much out of his luck. He lost five hundred dollars.”
”He did? He had better take care, or I will talk to him,” said Irene angrily.
”I guess he will do about as he pleases.”
”No, he won't; if he knows what is good for him.”
”Have you any power over him?”
”Yes; more than he would like to own.”