"The doctor says it will be another two weeks before my arm is out of the sling."
"Even so, the rest of you is well. There is n"t much excuse for my bringing in your breakfasts, Monte."
"Do you mind doing it?"
"No."
"Who is to tie on this silk handkerchief?" He wore a black silk handkerchief over his bandages, which she always adjusted for him.
She met his eyes a moment, and smiled again.
"I"m going to etois," she said. "I think I shall get a little villa there and stay all summer."
"Then," he declared, "I think I shall go to etois myself."
"I "m afraid you must n"t."
"But the doctor says I must n"t play golf for six months. What do you think I"m going to do with myself until then?"
"There"s all the rest of the world," she suggested.
Monte frowned.
"Are you going to break our engagement, then?"
"It has served its purpose, hasn"t it?" she asked.
"Up to now," he admitted. "But you say it can"t go any farther."
"No, Monte."
The next suggestion that leaped into Monte"s mind was obvious enough, yet he paused a moment before voicing it. Perhaps even then he would not have found the courage had he not been rather panic-stricken. He had exactly the same feeling, when he thought of her in etois, that he had when he thought of Edhart in Paradise. It started as resentment, but ended in a slate-gray loneliness.
He could imagine himself as sitting here alone at one of these little iron tables, and decidedly it was not pleasant. When he pictured himself as returning to his room in the hotel and to the company of the hotel valet, it put him in a mood that augured ill for the valet.
It would have been bad enough had he been able to resume his normal schedule and fill his time with golf; but, with even that relaxation denied him, such a situation as she proposed was impossible. For the present, at any rate, she was absolutely indispensable. She ought to know that a valet could not adjust a silk handkerchief properly, and that without this he could not even go upon the street. And who would read to him from the American papers?
There was no further excuse, she said, for her to bring in his breakfasts, but if she did not sit opposite him at breakfast, what in thunder was the use of eating breakfast? If she had not begun breakfasting with him, then he would never have known the difference.
But she had begun it; she had first suggested it. And now she calmly proposed turning him over to a valet.
"Marjory," he said, "didn"t I ask you to marry me?"
She nodded.
"That was necessary in order that we might be engaged," she reminded him.
"Exactly," he agreed. "Now there seems to be only one way that we may keep right on being engaged."
"I don"t see that, Monte," she answered. "We may keep on being engaged as long as we please, may n"t we?"
"It seems not. That is, there is n"t much sense in it if it won"t let me go to etois with you."
"Of course you can"t do that."
"And yet," he said, "if we were married I could go, couldn"t I?"
"Why--er--yes," she faltered; "I suppose so."
"Then," he said, "why don"t we get married?"
She did not turn away her head. She lifted her dark eyes to his.
"Just what do you mean, Monte?" she demanded.
"I mean," he said uneasily, "that we should get married just so that we can go on--as we have been these last ten days. Really, we"ll still only be engaged, but no one need know that. Besides, no one will care, if we"re married."
He gained confidence as he went on, though he was somewhat afraid of the wonder in her eyes.
"People don"t care anything more about you after you"re married," he said. "They just let you drop as if you were done for. It"s a queer thing, but they do. Why, if we were married we could sit here all day and no one would give us a second glance. We could have breakfast together as often as we wished, and no one would care a hang. I"ve seen it done. We could go to etois together, and I could pay for half the villa and you could pay for half. You can bring Marie, and we can stay as long as we wish without having any one turn an eye."
He was growing enthusiastic now.
"There will be nothing to prevent you from doing just as you wish. You can paint all day if you want. You can paint yards of things--olive trees and sky and rocks. There are lots of them around etois. And I--"
"Yes," she interrupted; "what can you do, Monte?"
"I can watch you paint," he answered. "Or I can walk. Or I can--oh, there"ll be plenty for me to do. If we tire of etois we can move somewhere else. If we tire of each other"s company, why, we can each go somewhere else. It"s simple, is n"t it? We can both do just as we please, can"t we? There won"t be a living soul with the right to open his head to us. Do you get that? Why, even if you want to go off by yourself, with Mrs. in front of your name they"ll let you alone."
At first she had been surprised, then she had been amused, but now she was thinking.
"It"s queer, is n"t it, Monte, that it should be like that?"
"It"s the way it is. It makes everything simple and puts the whole matter up to us."
"Yes," she admitted thoughtfully.
"Of course," he said, "I"m a.s.suming you don"t mind having me around quite a lot."
"No, I don"t mind that," she a.s.sured him. "But I "m wondering if you"ll mind--having me around?"
"I did n"t realize until this last week how--well, how comfortable it was having you around," he confessed.
She glanced up.
"Yes," she said, "that"s the word. I think we"ve made each other comfortable. After all--that"s something."
"It"s a whole lot."