Part 21 (2/2)

Mr. Shawyer looked away from his client's anxious eyes as he answered.

”I have. Unfortunately, it's true! You remember that deal, five years ago it was, when a syndicate was formed to knock out the smaller manufacturers who would not sell to Heeler's?”

”Yes.”

”Your wife's father was one of the small men who held out against you and was ruined.”

Forrester laughed mirthlessly.

”It's the devil's luck; but how was I to know? Women are all unreasonable.”

Mr. Shawyer did not answer, and Forrester went on:

”My wife has that Miss Fraser with her now, and mighty uncomfortable it is, too. She's as good as gold, but a rough diamond, and I wanted to get Faith away from the cla.s.s she's been forced to mix with for the past five years. It looks as if she's going to beat me in that, too,” he added, grimly.

”And are you all living at the flat?”

”Yes, for the present. I've taken a house at Hampstead, and we shall move there as soon as it's ready--in a week or two, I hope.” He paced the length of the office and back again. ”If it didn't look so much like running away, I'd make a settlement on my wife and clear off abroad,” he said, shortly.

”I shouldn't do that,” said Mr. Shawyer. ”She's young. Give her another chance; be patient for a little while.”

”Patience was never a virtue of mine,” said the Beggar Man, grimly.

”And, dash it all! What sort of a life is it for me, do you think? I'm not married at all, except that I'm paying; not that I mind the money.”

”Well, wait a little longer,” the elder man urged again. ”It's early days yet, and you never know what will happen.”

”I know what won't happen, though,” said Forrester grimly.

He went back to the flat disconsolately. He heard Peg laughing as he let himself in, and the silence that fell as soon as his steps sounded in the pa.s.sage.

The two girls were together in the sitting-room with which Faith had been so delighted when she first visited it, but it was Peg who greeted him as he entered.

She had made herself quite at home, and, in spite of a certain bluntness and vulgarity of which she would never rid herself as long as she lived, she seemed to have improved.

She was dressed more quietly and her hair was neater, but she still wore the gipsy earrings which Forrester hated so much.

She had been living in the flat a fortnight then--a year it seemed to Forrester. And he wondered, as he looked at his wife, why it was that, with each day, the gulf between them seemed to widen.

He smiled rather pathetically as her eyes met his.

”I've been thinking,” he said. ”What about a run down to see the twins?

I'll take you in the car.”

Twenty times a day he made up his mind that he would start all over again to win Faith back to him, but though she was friendly up to a certain point, he could never get beyond that point, or even back to the footing which had promised so happily for the future during the first days of their acquaintance.

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