Part 41 (1/2)
She was seated in one of the wicker chairs, chin in hand. He stepped toward her.
”You don't think I'd be cad enough to desert my wife actually?” he demanded.
He seemed so much in earnest that for a second the color flushed the chalk-white portions of her cheeks.
”Sit down, Monte,” she pleaded. ”I--I did n't expect you to take it like that. I 'm afraid Peter is making you too serious. After all, you know, I 'm of age. I 'm not a child.”
He sat down, bending toward her.
”We've both acted more or less like children,” he said gently. ”Now I guess the time has come for us to grow up. Peter will help you do that.”
”And you?”
”He has helped me already. And when he gets his eyes back--”
”You think there is a chance for that?”
”Just one chance,” he answered.
”Oh!” she cried.
”It's a big opportunity,” he said.
She rose and went to the window, where she looked out upon the gray ocean and the slanting rain and a world grown dull and sodden. He followed her there, but with his shoulders erect now.
”I 'm going now,” he said. ”I think I shall take the night train for Paris. I want to leave the machine--the machine we came down here in--for you.”
”Don't--please don't.”
”It's for you and Peter. The thing for you both to do is to get out in it every day.”
”I--I don't want to.”
”You mean--”
He placed his hand upon her arm, and she ventured one more look into his eyes. He was frowning. She must not allow that. She must send him away in good spirits. That was the least she could do. So she forced a smile.
”All right,” she promised; ”if it will make you more comfortable.”
”It would worry me a lot if I thought you were n't going to be happy.”
”I'll go out every fair day.”
”That's fine.”
He took a card from his pocket and scribbled his banker's address upon it.
”If anything should come up where--where I can be of any use, you can always reach me through this address.”