Without stirring, she demanded: "Why?"

He shook his head free. "To have--owned up--let this come to pass. I

love you: but that's all I dare say to you."

"Isn't it, maybe, enough for me?"

"I mean--I'm mad to marry you. But how can I ask you to have me? What

have I to offer you? The position of wife to a poverty-stricken,

half-grown playwright! It's out of reason...."

"But possibly--am I not the one to judge of that?"

"No: I won't have you marry a man unable to provide for you in the way

to which you've been educated. It's a point of honour--"

"But I have--"

"You must understand: I've got to be able--able!--to humour your every

whim. With things that way--what of your own you choose to spend on

yourself won't count. The issue is my ability to give you everything."

"But that will come--"

"When? I can't promise--I hardly dare hope--"

"This new play isn't your only hope?"

"No--"

"Success or failure, you'll keep on?"

"Certainly...."

"Then it's only a question of time."

"But you--how can I ask you to wait?"

"There's no necessity--"

"But it must be." He rose, unable to remain still. "Give me six months:

I've got another piece of work under way--and others only waiting their

turn. In six months I can--"

"No!"

The monosyllable brought him up sharply. He stared. Her white arms,

radiant in that clear, unearthly light, lifted toward him.

"If you want me, dear," she said in a voice tense with emotion--"it must

be now--soon! To wait--six months--I--that's im--"

The beautiful modulations of Helena Tankerville's voice interrupted.

Standing in one of the windows to the card-room, she said simply: "An

exquisite night."

Then, coming out upon the terrace and seeing Venetia and Matthias, she

moved toward them.

"Oh, there you are, Jack. You're wanted indoors."

Matthias, unable quickly to regain his poise, said nothing. Venetia

answered for him, calmly:

"He can't come."

"What, dear?"

"I say, he can't come, Helena. He's engaged."

"Engaged!"

Recovering, Helena bore down upon them with a little call of delight.

"Not really!... O my dears! I'm so glad!"

She gathered Venetia into her arms.

Joan Thursday: A Novel · 第 34 / 104 题