Part 26 (1/2)
”Oh, don't laugh. He _is_ good.”
”Well, I don't say he isn't--only----” he smiled.
”You forget,” she said. ”He doesn't know.”
”Are you quite sure he doesn't know?”
”Quite--quite sure.”
”And you are not going to enlighten him?”
She drew back before his penetrating gaze. ”I can't. I couldn't bear him to know.”
”How do you propose to prevent his knowing? Do you think you're clever enough to keep him in the dark for ever?”
”Why not? He hasn't seen things in the broad daylight, under his very nose. There were plenty of things to see.”
”You mean he's stupid?”
”I mean I haven't been clever, if that's what you think. Once I did nearly tell him.”
”Supposing somebody else tells him?”
”If they do it'll only be their word against mine. And he'd take my word against anybody's.”
”Poor devil!”
He seemed to meditate, dispa.s.sionately, on the poor devil's case, and hers.
”You little fool. It isn't a question of people's words. How are you going to get rid of the facts?”
”He needn't know them.”
”You forget. I'm one of them. How are you going to get rid of me?”
”Oh, Wilfrid--you're not going to tell him? You said you wouldn't.”
”Of course I said I wouldn't--I'd even be glad to get rid of myself to oblige you, Kitty, but I can't. Here I am. How are you going to account for me?”
”I've thought of that. He needn't see you. It'll be all right, Wilfrid, if you'll go away.”
”No doubt. But I haven't gone away.”
He emphasised his point by rising and taking up a commanding position on the hearthrug.
Some one knocked at the door, and she started violently.
It was only a servant, bringing a note for her.
She read it and handed it to Marston, looking piteously at him as he stood his ground.