Part 61 (1/2)
”Was there nothing better, then, for you all to do?”
”Many things,” coldly. ”But your wife started the game. She had doubtless her reasons----”
”Is that another insinuation? But at all events you cannot condemn the game, as you joined in it.”
”I could not avoid joining in it. Was _I_ to be the one to censure my hostess?”
”Certainly not,” sternly. ”No one is censuring her. And besides, as you all----” Then, as though the words are torn from him, ”Where is she now?”
”In the picture-gallery, behind one of your favourite screens, with Mr. Hescott.”
”A graphic description,” says he. He almost thrusts her aside, and steps quickly into the hall. Mrs. Bethune, leaning against the wall behind her, breaks into silent, terrible laughter.
At the foot of the stairs Margaret comes quickly to him. His face frightens her.
”Where are you going, Maurice?”
”Upstairs,” returns he quite calmly.
”You are going to be angry with t.i.ta,” says Margaret suddenly. ”I know it! And nothing is true. _Nothing!_ What has Marian been saying to you? She”--with the very strangest little burst of pa.s.sion, from Margaret, the quiet Margaret!--”she has been telling you lies!”
”My dear Margaret!”
”Oh, Maurice, do be led by me!--by _anyone_ but her!” says Miss Knollys, holding him, as he would have gone on. ”Why can't you see?
Are you blind?”
”I really think I must be,” returns he with a peculiar smile. ”It is only just now I am beginning to open my eyes. My dear, good Margaret!” He lifts her hand from his sleeve and pats it softly.
”You are too good for this world. It is you who are blind, really.
It will take longer to open your eyes than even mine.” He runs lightly past her up the stairs.
Margaret gives a little cry of despair. Colonel Neilson, catching her hand, draws her into a room on the left. The expected ”Coo-ee”
has been called twice already, but neither Margaret nor Neilson have heard it.
”Marian has done this,” says Margaret, in great distress. He has her hand still in his, and now, half unconsciously, she tightens her fingers over his.
”That woman is a perfect devil!” says the Colonel savagely. ”She is playing Old Harry with the _regime_ here.”
”I can't think what she means to be the end of it,” says Margaret.
”She can't marry him herself, and----”
”She might, you know, if--if--she could manage to prove certain things.”
”Oh _no!_ I won't believe she is as bad as that,” says Margaret with horror. ”She has her good points. She has, really, though you will never believe me.”
”Never!” says the Colonel stoutly. ”The way she behaved to you this evening----”
”To me?” Margaret flushes quickly. The flush makes her charming. She knows quite well to what he is alluding, and she likes him for being indignant with Marian because of it--and yet, if only he _hadn't_ alluded to it! It isn't nice to be called middle-aged--though when one is only thirty, one ought to be able to laugh at it--but when one is thirty and unmarried, somehow one never laughs at it.