Part 7 (1/2)
There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died without him.”
”Fay, tell me--I'll never ask again--was Hugo unkind to you?”
”No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his life ... and there were other people ... not ladies”--Fay felt the shoulder she leant against stiffen--”but I didn't know that for quite a long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always hoped the mines and things would make lots of money.... You know, Jan, I'd _rather_ believe in people. I daresay you think I'm weak and stupid ... but I can never understand wives who set detectives on their husbands.”
”It isn't done by the best people,” Jan said with a laugh that was half a sob. ”Let's hope it isn't often necessary....”
Fay drew a little closer: ”Oh, you are dear not to be stern and scolding....”
”It's not you I feel like scolding.”
”If you scolded him, he'd agree with every word, so that you simply couldn't go on ... and then he'd go away and do just the same things over again, and fondly hope you'd never hear of it. But he _was_ kind in lots of ways. He didn't drink----”
”I don't see anything so very creditable in that,” Jan interrupted.
”Well, it's one of the things he didn't do--and we had the nicest bungalow in the station and by far the best motor--a much smarter motor than the Resident. And it was only when I discovered that Hugo had made out I was an heiress that I began to feel uncomfortable.”
”Was he good to the children?”
”He hardly saw them. Children don't interest him much. He liked little Fay because she's so pretty, but I don't think he cared a great deal for Tony. Tony is queer and judging. Don't take a dislike to Tony, Jan; he needs a long time, but once you've got him he stays for ever--will you remember that?”
Again, Jan felt that cold hand laid on her heart, the hand of chill foreboding. She had noticed many times already that when Fay was off her guard she always talked as though, for her, everything were ended, and she was only waiting for something. There seemed no permanence in her relations with them all.
A shadowy white figure lifted the curtain between the two rooms and stood salaaming.
Jan started violently. She was not yet accustomed to the soundless naked feet of the servants whose presence might be betrayed by a rustle, never by a step.
It was Ayah waiting to know if Fay would like to go to bed.
”Shall I go, Jan? Are you tired?”
Jan was, desperately tired, for she had had no sleep the night before, but Fay's voice had in it a little tremor of fear that showed she dreaded the night.
”Send her to bed, poor thing. I'll look after you, brush your hair and tuck you up and all.... Fay, oughtn't you to have somebody in your room?
Couldn't my cot be put in there, just to sleep?”
”Oh, Jan, would you? Don't you mind?”
”Shall I help her to move it?” Jan said, getting up.
Fay pulled her down again. ”You funny Jan, you can't do that sort of thing here. The servants will do it.”
She sat up, gave a rapid, eager order to Ayah, and in a few minutes Jan heard her bed being wheeled down the pa.s.sage. Every room had wide double doors--like French rooms--and there was no difficulty.
Fay sank down again among her cus.h.i.+ons with a great sigh of relief: ”I don't mind now how soon I go to bed. I shan't be frightened in the long dark night any more. Oh, Jan, you _are_ a dear daylight person!”
CHAPTER V
THE CHILDREN