Part 23 (1/2)
Thayer made no answer, and she sat looking up at him with a steady wishfulness which made him uneasy. Her next words, though chosen by chance, increased his uneasiness.
”Have you seen Miss Dane, since you came back?”
”I was there, yesterday.”
”How did she seem to you?”
His steady eyes met hers without wavering.
”I don't quite understand what you mean by the question.”
Miss Gannion varied the form of her words.
”Did you think she looked well?”
”Very.”
”And yet, I don't think Beatrix is happy,” Miss Gannion said, half to herself.
”Why not?”
”How can she be? Beatrix is not dense. She thinks things, and she must know the uncertainty of the future.”
”But I thought it was quite certain.” There was a level monotony in Thayer's accent.
”You think Mr. Lorimer has really reformed and is out of danger?” Miss Gannion asked quickly.
”I wish he had,” Thayer answered half involuntarily.
”Then there is still trouble?”
But already Thayer was once more upon his guard.
”I have heard of nothing since I came home.”
”Have you seen Mr. Lorimer?”
”No.”
There was a curt brevity in his manner which was new to Miss Gannion. In spite of herself, it set her to wondering whether prosperity had been good for her friend, whether the consciousness of his own importance were making him indifferent to the interests of others. Perhaps, after all, it was true that he was becoming impersonal. He might be growing larger; he was certainly growing more remote from her life. Miss Gannion cared for Thayer. Now, while she watched him, her eyes were lighted with an almost fierce affection, even though her disappointment made her voice take on a hard, metallic ring, as she asked,--
”Are you turning your back upon the problem of your old friend, Mr.
Thayer?”
”No,” he answered; ”but I thought we had solved it, in this very room.”
She raised her brows interrogatively.
”'To say our prayers, and wait,'” he quoted.