"I'm surprised at that. I thought you would have seen how well we'd
played our game, and that it's--up."
"I don't see--not unless you're trying to tell me that you've--that your
feelings have undergone a--"
He was still smiling rather mechanically, though he tugged nervously at
the end of his horizontal mustache. "Wouldn't it be possible--now that
everything has turned out so--so beautifully--wouldn't it be possible to
let the rest go without--without superfluous explanations?"
"I'm ready to do everything you like; but I can't help being surprised."
"That must be because I've been more successful than I thought I was. I
fancied that--when I saw how things were with you--you saw how they were
with me--and that--"
"Saw how they were with you? Do you mean?--No, you can't mean!--it
isn't--Drusilla?"
Since Drusilla would do as well as another, he still stood smiling. She
clasped her hands. Her face was all aglow.
"Oh, I should be so glad! It's only within a few days that I've
seen--how it was--with--"
He hastened to interrupt her, though he had no idea of what she was
going to say. "Then so long as you do see--"
"Oh yes; I--I begin to see. I'm afraid I've been very stupid. You've
been so kind--so noble--when all the while--"
"We won't discuss that, what? We won't discuss each other at all. Even
if you go your way and I go mine, we shall still be--"
He didn't finish, because she dropped again to the sofa, burying her
face in the cushions. It was the first time he had ever seen her give
way to deep emotion. If he had not felt so strong to carry the thing
through to the end, he would have been unnerved. As it was, he sat down
beside her, bending over her bowed head. He made no attempt to touch
her.
"I can't bear it," he could hear her panting. "I can't bear it."
"What is it that you can't bear? The pain?" She nodded without raising
her head.
"Or the happiness?" he asked, gently. She nodded again.
"That is," he went on, "pain for me--and happiness about--about--the
other chap."
She made the same mute sign of affirmation.
"Then, perhaps, that's just as it should be."
* * * * *
When Ashley got out to the road Davenant was still standing by the gate,
uncertain whether to turn back to the house or go away. Ashley continued
to smile jauntily. If he was white about the temples and sallow in the
cheeks there was no one to notice it.
"Miss Guion wants to see you," he announced to Davenant. "It's about
that matter of her father. I dare say you'll pull it off. No, not just
now," he added, as Davenant started to go up the driveway. "She--she's
busy. Later will do. Say this afternoon. Come along with me. I've got
something to tell you. I'm on my way to the Temples'."
Once more Ashley slipped his arm through Davenant's, but they walked on
in silence. The silence continued till they were on the Embankment, when
Ashley said: "On second thoughts, I sha'n't tell you what I was going to
just now."
"That's all right," Davenant rejoined; and no more was said till they
reached Rodney Temple's door.
"Good-by." Ashley offered his hand. "Good-by. You're a first-rate sort.
You deserve everything you're--you're coming in for."
Davenant could only wring the proffered hand wonderingly and continue on
his way.
Inside the house Ashley asked only for Drusilla. When she came to the
drawing-room he refused to sit down. He explained his hurry, on the
ground that he was on his way to Boston to take the earliest possible
train for New York.
"Oh yes. That's it," he said, in answer to her dumb looks of inquiry.
"It couldn't go on, you see. You must have known it--in spite of what
you told me last night. You've been an out-and-out good pal. You've
cheered me up more than a bit all the time I've been here. If it hadn't
been for you--Oh yes, I'm hit; but not hit so hard that I can't still go
on fighting--"
"Not in the Carral country, I hope."
"N-no. On second thoughts that would be only running away. I'm not going
to run away. Wounds as bad as mine have healed with a bit of nursing,
and--Well, good-by. Say good-by to your father and mother for me, will
you?--especially to your governor. Rum old chap, but sound--sound as--as
Shakespeare and the Bible. Good-by once more. Meet again some time."
It was at the door, to which she accompanied him, that he said: "By the
way, when are you coming home?"
She called all her dignity to her aid in order to reply lightly: "Oh, I
don't know. Not for ages and ages. Perhaps not at all. I may stay
permanently over here. I don't know."
"Oh, I say--"
"In any case I'm here for the winter."
"Oh, but I say, by Jove! That's forever. You'll be back before spring?"
She weakened in spite of herself. "I couldn't possibly leave till after
Christmas."
"Christmas! It's the end of November now. Well, that's not so bad.
Expect to be in Southsea some time early in the new year. See you then."
He had gone down the steps when he turned again. Drusilla was still
standing in the open doorway.
"It's awfully queer, but I feel as if--you'll laugh, I know--but I feel
as if I'd been kept from the commission of a crime. Funny, isn't it?
Well, I'll be off. See you in Southsea not later than the middle of
January. Good-by again; and don't forget my message to your governor."