Astry was amusing himself driving the billiard balls about on the
table, practising some of his favorite strokes. He was an unusually
graceful man and he showed it as he handled his cue, his cigarette
between his teeth and his eyes narrowed in thought. He had long ago
ceased to be a happy man. There had been moments, years before, when
he had been considered rather jolly; men liked him and women liked him
too. He was greatly changed; the hardening process had destroyed some
of the more tender amenities of life.
He drove the ball successfully and stopped to chalk his cue; on the
wire over his head one of his parrots balanced, sidling along and
talking once and a while in strange jargon. Astry watched him, half
amused, then he continued to play with the balls. The house was
profoundly quiet; at the moment they had no house guests, though Eva
courted company for she dreaded being alone with her husband. He had
asked John Charter to come to them but John had refused. The refusal
did not surprise Astry; it only confirmed him in certain suspicions
and, as the balls danced away from his driving cue, he was thinking
of Rachel. Hers was undoubtedly the figure of the drama and he knew
that she was unhappy; he divined much more though he made no sign.
But he was as other men; he desired love, he craved happiness, he
had been embittered by the loss of both, poisoned by the contact of
treachery, and he had ceased to believe, he had even ceased to forgive.
Forgiveness is godlike, and very few of us ever know it, feel it,
or receive it. Forgiveness is like the work in a stone quarry; it
takes hard labor and only the morally great accomplish it. But Astry
saw revealed Rachel's love for Eva and the sight of it was almost
irritating; it seemed as if she wasted it, that Eva gave back so
little. He had come to think that Eva had very little to give.
He continued to play with the balls. Presently the old clock in the
hall chimed sweetly, five o'clock. Then he heard his wife coming. She
had been out and had just returned; she came through the drawing-room,
her dress rustling, her light footstep uneven. He reached up and,
taking the chattering parrot from the wire, put him into the
conservatory and came back with his cue in his hand just as Eva looked
in.
"Playing billiards alone," she remarked languidly. "I should think it
would bore you to death."
"My dear Eva, I'm bored to extinction, but one must have something to
do."
She came slowly into the room and, going to the window, stood there
looking out.
"I suppose you'd really be happier if you weren't so rich," she
remarked.
"Do you think it's altogether a matter of money? That the possession of
it brings misery?"
"Sometimes I think it does. I don't seem to think of any one I know
who's very rich and happy too."
Astry put his cue down on the table and sat down; he seemed willing to
discuss the point. "Suppose you were poor to-morrow, Eva; would you be
any less wretched?"
She gave him a startled look over her shoulder. "Who said I was
wretched?"