After that moment of madness by the wishing-gate Nina's wanton desire to
provoke to wrath the monster to whom she was chained died a sudden and
unnatural death. She was scrupulously careful of his feelings from that
day forward, and he treated her with a freezing courtesy, a cynical
consideration, that seemed to form a barrier behind which the actual man
concealed himself and watched.
That he did watch her was a fact of which she was miserably conscious.
She knew with the certain knowledge of intuition that he studied her
continually. She was perpetually under the microscope of his criticism,
and there were times when she told herself she could not bear it. He was
too much for her; too pitiless a tyrant, too stern a master. Her life
was becoming insupportable.
A fortnight of their honeymoon had passed away, when one morning
Wingarde looked up with a frown from a letter.
"I have had a summons to town," he said abruptly.
Nina's heart leapt at the words, and her relief showed itself for one
unmanageable second in her face.
He saw it, and she knew he saw it.
"I shall be sorry," he said, with cutting sarcasm, "to curtail your
enjoyment here, but the necessity for my presence is imperative. I
should like to catch the two-thirty this afternoon if you can be ready
by then."
Nina's face was burning. She held herself very erect.
"I can be ready before then if you wish," she said stiffly.
He rose from the breakfast-table with a curt laugh. As he passed her he
flicked her cheek with the envelope he held in his hand.
"You are a dutiful wife, my dear," he said.
She winced sharply, and bent her head over her own letters.
"I do my best," she said, after a moment.
"I am sure of it," he responded dryly.
He paused at the door as if he expected her to say more. More came,
somewhat breathlessly, and not upon the same subject.
Nina glanced up with sudden resolution.
"Hereford," she said, "can you let me have some money?"
She spoke with the rapidity of nervousness. She saw his hand leave the
door. His face remained quite unmoved.
"For yourself?" he asked.
Considering the amount of the settlement he had made upon her, the
question was absurd. Nina smiled faintly.
"No," she said, "not for myself."
He took a cheque-book from his pocket and walked to a writing-table.
"How much do you want?" he asked.
She hesitated, and he looked round at her.
"I--I only want to borrow it," she said haltingly. "It is rather a big
sum."
"How much?" he repeated.
"Five thousand pounds," she answered, in a low voice.
He continued to look at her for several seconds. Finally he turned and
shut up his cheque-book with a snap.
"The money will be placed to your credit to-morrow," he said. "But
though a financier, I am not a money-lender. Please understand that! And
let your family understand it, too."
And, rising, he walked straight from the room.
No further reference was made to the matter on either side. Nina's pride
or her courage shrank from any expression of gratitude.
In the afternoon with intense thankfulness she travelled southward.
Never were London smoke and dust more welcome.
They went straight to Wingarde's great house in Crofton Square. Dinner
was served immediately upon their arrival.
"I must ask you to excuse me," Wingarde said, directly dessert was
placed upon the table. "I have to go out--on business. In case I don't
see you again, good-night!"
He was on his feet as he spoke. In her surprise Nina started up also.
"At this hour!" she exclaimed. "Why, it is nearly eleven!"
"At this hour," he grimly responded, "you will be able to dispense with
my society no doubt."
His tone silenced her. Yet, as he turned to go, she looked after him
with mute questioning in her eyes. She had a feeling that he was keeping
something from her, and--perhaps it was merely the natural result of
womanly curiosity baffled--she was vaguely hurt that he did not see fit
to tell her whither his business was taking him.
A few words would have sufficed; but he had not chosen to utter them,
and her pride was sufficient to suppress any display of interest in his
affairs. She would not court the snub that she felt convinced he would
not hesitate to administer.
So he left her without explanation, and Nina went drearily to bed. On
the following morning, however, the sun shone upon her, and she went
downstairs in better spirits.
The first person she encountered was her husband. He was sauntering
about the morning-room in his overcoat, a cup of strong tea in his hand.
He greeted her perfunctorily, as his fashion was.
"Oh, good-morning!" he said. "I have only just got back. I was detained
unavoidably. I am going upstairs for an hour's rest, and then I shall
be off to the City. I don't know if you would care to drive in with me.
I shall use the car, but it will then be at your service for the rest of
the day."
"Have you been working all night?" Nina asked incredulously.
He nodded.
"It was unavoidable," he said again, with a touch of impatience. "You
had better have a second brew of tea, this is too strong for you."
He set down his cup and rang the bell.
Nina stood and looked at him. He certainly did not look like a man who
had been up all night. Alert, active, tough as wire, he walked back to
the table and gathered together his letters. A faint feeling of
admiration stirred in her heart. His, strength appealed to her for the
first time.
"I should like to drive into the City with you," she said, after a
pause.
He gave her a sharp glance.
"I thought you would be wanting to go to the bank," he remarked coolly.
She flushed and turned her back upon him. It was an unprovoked assault,
and she resented it fiercely.
When they met again an hour later she was on the defensive, ready to
resist his keenest thrust, and, seeing it, he laughed cynically.
"Armed to the teeth?" he asked, with a careless glance at her slim
figure and delicate face.
She did not answer him by so much as a look. He handed her into the car
and took his seat beside her.
"Can you manage to dine out with some of your people to-night?" he
asked. "I am afraid I shall not be home till late."
"You seem to have a great deal on your hands," she remarked coldly.
"Yes," said Wingarde.
It was quite obvious that he had no intention of taking her into his
confidence, and Nina was stubbornly determined to betray no interest.
Then and there she resolved that since he chose to give himself up
entirely to the amassing of wealth, not hesitating to slight his wife in
the process, she also would live her separate life wholly independent of
his movements.
She pretended to herself that she would make the most of it. But deep in
her heart she hated him for thus setting her aside. His action pierced
straight through her pride to something that sheltered behind it, and
inflicted a grevious wound.
V