"Really? That sounds as if you were rather glad."
"So I am--very glad. I hate this place and everybody in it!" Her voice, which had risen pa.s.sionately, broke off, and she turned her eyes to his face. "No, that is not true," she said impulsively. "I don"t hate you--the only reason I am sorry to be going is because it will mean leaving you."
She spoke with unaffected sincerity, and without realizing what her words might imply, but Feathers" big hands were suddenly clenched into fists, and there was a curiously strained look about his eyes as he stared down at the asphalt path.
"You are very kind," he said, formally.
"No, it is you who have been kind," she answered. "I don"t know what I should have done without you--" She spread her hands and laughed. "Yes, I do know; I should have been drowned."
"I wish you would try and forget all about that."
"I do try, but I can"t! Sometimes I dream about it, and I wake up crying and struggling, just as if it had all happened again... ."
She shivered sensitively, drawing a long breath.
"Then Chris should have taken you away from the sea long ago,"
Feathers said decidedly.
"He doesn"t know ..."
"Not know!" Feathers echoed blankly.
"No ..." she rushed on, painfully conscious of what he was thinking. "But we"re going on Friday, and then I hope I shall forget all about it; I think I am sure to, when we are back in London."
"Where are you going to stay?"
"With my aunt; you know her, don"t you?"
"Oh, yes, very well."
But his voice sounded absent, as if his thoughts were far away.
"You will come and see us, won"t you?" Marie asked anxiously. "You will come and stay with us when you are back in town, won"t you?"
He looked up with a faint smile.
"It is kind of you to ask me, but I am not very good company, you know--I am not an amusing chap like Chris."
She did not answer, though she could truthfully have said that he had done more to pa.s.s the dreary hours of the last three weeks than ever Chris had attempted to do.
"I heard from young Atkins this morning," Feathers said presently.
"He asked very anxiously after you; he is a nice boy."
"Yes, I liked him; he has written to me once or twice."
"Really! What does Chris say to that?"
If the question was asked deliberately it was entirely successful, for Marie gave a scornful little laugh as she answered: "Oh, he doesn"t know," and once again Feathers echoed her words blankly.
"Doesn"t know, Mrs. Lawless!"
"No! Oh, I hope you are not one of those old-fashioned people who think husband and wife should have no secrets from one another,"
she broke out with shrill nervousness. "Chris and I are going to be entirely modern--we agreed that from the first; each to go our own way, and no questions asked."
There was a profound silence, then Feathers said rather painfully:
"That is different from what you told me that morning on the sands, and again after your accident--you said you were sure that you could never be a modern wife, that your friend had told you you ought to have lived in early Victorian days."
Marie gave a little sigh.
"You have a good memory," she said hopelessly. "But I suppose we can all change our minds if we wish!"
"There is no law against it certainly, but it seems a pity to change it, and not for the better."
"You don"t like the modern woman?"
"I despise her," said Feathers vehemently. "Look at the women in this hotel! They think of nothing but clothes and amus.e.m.e.nt and flirtations--there is not one I would cross the room to look at."
"Present company always excepted, I hope," said Marie with a little whimsical smile.
"I don"t cla.s.s you with that sort of woman at all," Feathers said stolidly.
"Thank you, Mr. Dakers."
He moved restlessly, almost as if the conversation bored him, and Marie rose with nervous haste.
"I"m afraid I"ve been talking a lot of nonsense," she said apologetically. "I wonder if Chris is out of the sea yet."
They walked to the railings and looked down on to the sands.
"Shall you stay here long?" she asked, suddenly. "After we have gone, I mean."
"I don"t know; I haven"t made any plans; I"m one of those people who drift with the tide, and if a wave casts me up on the sh.o.r.e, as it did when I came here, I just stay until another one comes along and washes me off again."
She looked up at him interestedly.
"I have so often wondered why you came here." she said suddenly.
"You don"t like the hotel, or the people, or even the place very much, do you?"
"I came here to see you."
"To see me!"
"Yes--I wanted to see what sort of a woman Chris had married."
"And were you very disappointed?" She asked her question with wistful anxiety, very sure that if he answered it at all it would be with the truth.
"Yes, I was disappointed--but agreeably!" he said, smiling. "I somehow imagined you would be empty-headed and golden-haired-- perhaps a little older than Chris. I am afraid I thought you would be the type of woman that Mrs. Heriot is."