Part 22 (1/2)
As a matter of fact, she was pretty near to being right. ”All the more reason for you to be cautious and circ.u.mspect,” said I boldly. ”Pray think of my position, if not your own.”
She gave me a queer little look and then smiled brightly. (She _is_ lovely!)
”I'll promise to be good,” she said.
”I only ask you to be careful,” said I, blunderingly. She laughed aloud: her merriest, most distracting gurgle.
”And now will you be good enough to tell me who I am?” she asked, after a few minutes. ”That is, who am I supposed to be?”
”Oh,” said I uneasily, ”you are really n.o.body. You are Britton's wife.”
”What! Does Britton know it?”
”Yes,” said I, with a wry smile. ”He took a mean advantage of me in the presence of George Hazzard not an hour ago, and asked for a raise in wages on account of his wife's illness. It seems that you are an invalid.”
”I hope he hasn't forgotten the baby in his calculations.”
”He hasn't, you may be sure. He has named the baby after me.”
”How original!”
”I thought it rather clever to change Rosemary's s.e.x for a few days,”
said I. ”Moreover, it will be necessary for Britton to take Max's place as your personal servant. He will fetch your meals and--”
”Oh, I can't agree to that, Mr. Smart,” she cried with decision. ”I must have Max. He is--”
”But Britton must have some sort of a pretext for--”
”Nonsense! No one cares about Britton and his sick wife. Let well enough alone.”
”I--I'll think it over, Countess,” said I weakly.
”And now tell me all about--Mr. Pless. How is he looking? Does he appear to be unhappy?” There was a curious note in her voice, as of anxiety or eagerness, it was hard to tell which. In any case, I found myself inwardly resenting her interest in the sneering Hungarian. (I had discovered that he was not an Austrian.) There was a queer sinking sensation in the region of my heart, and a slight chill. Could it be possible that she--But no! It was preposterous!
”He appears to be somewhat sentimental and preoccupied. He gazes at the moon and bites his nails.”
”I--I wish I could have a peep at him some time without being--”
”For heaven's sake, don't even consider such a thing,” I cried in alarm.
”Just a little peek, Mr. Smart,” she pleaded.
”No!” said I firmly.
”Very well,” she said resignedly, fixing me with hurt eyes. ”I'm sorry to be such a bother to you.”
”I believe you'll go back to him, after all,” I said angrily. ”Women are all alike. They--”
”Just because I want to see how unhappy he is, and enjoy myself a little, you say horrid things to me,” she cried, almost pathetically.
”You treat me very badly.”