Part 24 (2/2)

”No one but a fool will permit a woman to go astray under his eyes, and a fool deserves to lose his wife.”

As he spoke these words he looked toward Marion with an insinuating expression which told her that his remark was directed at Roswell, and that he expected her to appreciate the humor of it. Marion felt a sense of thankfulness rise in her heart. Coa.r.s.eness never could appeal to her sensitive nature and she shuddered when she thought that this was the man for whom she had been willing to risk her honor. She was beginning to find him out. Thank heaven, the knowledge came before it was too late.

Roswell was silent for a moment. Then he said, thoughtfully: ”Any one of us may be cast to play the role of fool. Unfortunately we never recognize just when we begin to play the part. I used to think as you do, Grahame. It is only lately I have begun to feel that it takes two to create a difference. Perhaps I am wrong, but I believe that, had my friend recognized sooner that his wife was made unhappy by his own neglect and the surroundings in which he placed her, the danger might have been averted.”

For a while no one spoke. Marion gazed thoughtfully at the table; Duncan twirled a gla.s.s carelessly between his fingers and a smile played on his lips, while Roswell silently puffed his cigar and watched the blue wreaths of smoke curl gently upward.

”Shall we go into the next room, my dear?” said Roswell after a moment, dropping his half-finished cigar. ”I have just time to catch my train.”

”You are not going, are you?” said Marion, looking up, startled. ”Please put off your trip,” she added with a slight tone of appeal in her voice.

”I must go,” he answered, rising from his chair.

The three people walked toward the hall. As they reached the door, Roswell stopped and motioned Duncan to lead the way. The younger man pa.s.sed out, leaving Marion and her husband together. Roswell took both his wife's hands and drew her toward him.

”I must leave Grahame with you, my dear. Don't mind my running away. It is business and can't be helped.”

”Don't go, Roswell,” pleaded Marion, and she turned her head away so that he could not look into her face.

”I must, my darling. I must,” he answered, and she felt his arms about her. She hid her face on his breast, and, ashamed of her unworthiness, she felt afraid to be left alone. ”Good-by, dear,” he said, and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. They walked silently through the hallway to the little French room, by the door. They found Duncan there, wandering carelessly about examining the ornaments. Stepping up to him, Roswell put out his hand and said simply: ”I must leave you, Grahame. I have just time to catch my train. Sit here and finish your cigar. My wife will do her best to amuse you.”

Duncan muttered a word of parting and Roswell hurried into the hallway.

Marion took a seat in the farther end of the room and gazed thoughtfully toward the door where her husband had left. She could hear him putting on his coat and then the door closed behind him. The carriage rolled off, and as the last echo of the wheels died away she realized that she was alone with the man who had played such a strange part in her life.

She felt brave now. The danger was past and her only thought was to prove worthy of the confidence her husband had placed in her. She looked at Duncan, wondering what his first move would be. He took a few steps on the floor. His eyes seemed to sparkle with merriment. ”Well, I must say,” he said, stopping in his desultory wandering and plunging his hands into his pockets, ”that husband of yours is the most convenient person that I ever came across.” Marion cast an angry glance toward him.

All the resentment in her nature was aroused by these coa.r.s.e words. Her dream of months had vanished, and in its place was a repulsive reality.

Duncan came toward her with a confident step and tried to take her hand.

Marion jumped to her feet and pushed him back. ”Don't touch me,” she cried.

Duncan laughed. This new-found anger amused him and he did not believe she was in earnest. ”Marion, dearest, we are alone,” he said ardently.

”We can enjoy our love and no one will interrupt.”

He made another movement toward her. She drew back and looked defiantly at him.

”I hate you,” she said. ”Can't you see that I hate you.”

”Hate is the first step to love,” answered Duncan, still amused by her anger. ”Let it fade away for I want to see love smile from those bewitching eyes.”

Then he hesitated. He saw anger flas.h.i.+ng from her dark eyes now, but he could not believe that he had lost the power he had so lately exerted over her, and he fancied that this resentment must be due to some whim.

”Do you forget the past, dearest?” he said coaxingly, after a moment.

”Do you forget our love of yesterday?”

”The unreasoning fancy of a moment is not love,” answered Marion coldly.

<script>