"Ronald Morelle. I don't suppose he minds--now. Lucky devil,
Steppe. God! If I had his money!"
Ambrose walked slowly away, but his enemy had found the chink in his
armor. He was certain of it. It was incredible that a man like
Ambrose Sault would feel that way, but he would swear that Ambrose
was hurt. Here he was wrong. Ambrose was profoundly moved; but he
was not hurt.
That day Moropulos said little. It was on the second and third days
that he went to work with an ingenuity that was devilish to break
farther into the crevice he had found.
Ambrose made little or no response. The slyest, most outrageous
innuendo, he passed as though it had not been spoken. Moropulos was
piqued and angry. He dare not go farther for fear Sault complain to
Steppe. That alone held him within bounds. But the man was
suffering. Instinctively he knew that. Suffering in a dumb,
hopeless way that found no expression.
On the Friday night Ambrose returned to his lodging looking very
tired. Christina was shocked at his appearance. "Ambrose--what is
the matter?"
"I don't know, Christina--yes, I know. Moropulos has been trying,
very trying. I find it so much more difficult to hold myself in. I
suppose I'm getting old and my will power is weakening."
She stroked the hand that lay on the arm of the chair (for she was
sitting up) and looked at him gravely.
"Ambrose, I feel that you have given me some of your strength. Do
you remember how you gave it to mother?"
He shook his head. "No, not you--I purposely didn't. I've a loving
heart for you, Christina. I shall carry you with me beyond life."
"Why do you say that tonight?" she asked with an odd little pain at
her heart.
"I don't know. Steppe wants me to go down with Moropulos to his
place in the country. Moropulos has asked me before, but this time
Steppe asked me. I don't know--"
He shook his head wearily. She had never seen him so depressed. It
was as if the spirit of life had suddenly burned out.
"I hope it will be as you say, Ambrose, but, my dear, you are
overtired; we oughtn't to discuss souls and eternities and stuff like
that. It is sleep you want, Ambrose."
"I'm not sleepy."
He bent over her, his big hand on her head. "I am glad you are
well," he said.
She heard him go downstairs and out of the house, late as it was. A
few minutes afterwards Evie came in.
"Where is Sault going?" she asked. "I saw him stalking up the street
as though it belonged to him. And oh, Chris, what do you think
Ronnie says! Mr. Steppe is marrying that girl who came here--Beryl
Merville!"
"Fine," said Christina absently.
She knew now and her heart was bursting with sorrow for the man who
had gone out into the night.