They had reentered the room, fastening the window securely behind them.
When that was done, they had drawn the curtains across the panes.
She had flung herself into a chair beside the fire and was waiting
impatiently for him to join her. But he hovered in the center of the
room, fingering his watch and looking troubled.
“What's delaying you?” she asked without turning.
He slipped his watch into his pocket. “I had no idea it was so late.”
“Does that matter? Till morning there are no trains.”
“I was thinking of hotels.”
“They'll be shut.”
“Precisely. So what am I----?”
“Stay with me,” she said lazily.
The room became profoundly silent. The darkened house seemed to listen.
Had he plumbed a new depth in this drama of betrayal at the moment
when he hoped he had discovered loyalty? He had been deceived by women
before. Had he not allowed Santa to deceive him, he would not have been
here. He might tell himself that this woman was different. If a man did
not tell himself that each new woman was different, the mischief of love
would end.
He caught sight of her flaxen head and became ashamed of his
reflections. It wasn't possible, if the soul was foul, that the flesh
should be so fair. She had the wonder of the dawn in her eyes. Nothing
that she had said or done could belie the frankness of her innocence.
Standing behind her chair, he gazed down in puzzlement at her
graciousness.
“There are conventions. We may have met unconventionally, but neither of
us can afford to ignore them.”
Without looking up, she answered, “If you were as alone as I am, you
could afford to ignore anything.”
“Perhaps I am.”
“Then you understand.”
“I think I understand.” He spoke gently. “I suppose no man can ever be
so lonely as a woman, especially as a woman who has lost her happiness,
but I, too, have been lonely. Everybody has. The cowardice which comes
of loneliness is responsible for nearly every wickedness. Most thefts,
and cheatings, and even murders are committed in an effort to gain
companionship. But you can't elude loneliness by short-cuts. Wherever
you go, it's with you from birth to death. Brave people make it their
friend. Cowards let it become their tempter. Loneliness is no excuse for
wrong-doing, nor even for surrendering to the appearance of it.”
“Preaching?”
“No. Trying to share with you my experience. Until this afternoon, you
didn't know that I existed. All your life up to the last five minutes,
you've been able to do without me. Don't be greedy and spoil everything
before it's started. There's tomorrow.”
“Why wait for to-morrow when I trust you now?”
He stooped lower. She had become irresistibly dear. In a rush he had
found the clue to her character--her childishness. She couldn't bear to
postpone the things she wanted.
“Trust me! I wonder! You're the first woman to have the daring to tell
me. I'm not sure that I feel complimented; at this hour of night one has
to be a little cold to be trusted like that. But I trust you--which
is strange after all that's happened. The person I distrust is myself.
You're beautiful. The most beautiful----”
“Am I more beautiful than Santa?”
He caught the vision of her blue eyes glinting up at him. There was
nothing roguish in their expression. They were pathetic in their
earnestness. Her throat was stretched back, white and firm. Her lips
were vivid and parted. Her question sounded like the ruse of a coquette,
yet she seemed wholly unaware of her attraction.
He drew himself erect, staring at the wall that he might forbid himself
the danger of looking at her. His voice came harsh and abrupt. “Your
confession can keep till morning. One can say and unsay anything. It's
deeds that can never be unsaid.”
He had reached the door. She spoke dully. “You despise me.” And then,
“All my life I've waited for to-morrows. Go quickly.”
Glancing across his shoulder he saw her, a mist of gold in a great
emptiness. Slowly he turned back.
“Can't you guess the reason for my going? I reverence you too much.”
Clutching at his hands, she dragged herself to her feet. “It's
friendship that I'm asking. What's the use of reverence? Like me a
little. You'd do more for Santa. Only to like me wouldn't cost you
much.”