It was much later in the evening when Charter finally escaped from
Colonel Sedley and, under a pretext of looking out at the weather, made
his way into the conservatory. The whole party of dinner guests had
been much chagrined an hour before by the astounding news that they
were snow-bound.
The predictions of Mrs. Billop's weather-man had been startlingly
fulfilled, and had Sidney not escaped as he did, not even overshoes and
a taxicab would have sufficed to get him home. The snow had drifted
so heavily that no conveyances were at hand and even the telephone
had gone quietly out of commission. There was nothing to do, as Astry
said, but to stay the night with them. But this arrangement, accepted
with more or less laughter and uneasiness by the others, was not to
Charter's taste. He had found the evening bad enough as it was without
prolonging it until morning, and he escaped from the drawing-room
with the frank intention of taking French leave. He was too hardy a
soldier to dread even the extreme cold, and he went now to the door
of the conservatory to ascertain the depth of the drifts before he
started. The frost had affected the electric system sufficiently to
blot out many of the lamps and the shadowy aisles of the conservatory
showed only an occasional light. A disgruntled parrot sat on the stem
of the banana tree, but not even he uttered a sound as Charter passed
on his way to the vestibule. As he opened the door, the cold seemed to
pounce upon him and he saw nothing but a vast sheet of unbroken snow
and sleet. But the tempest had ceased and the clouds were clearing away
from a sky that was brilliant with stars.
He thought of Rachel with a vision of the old, low-ceiled room with
the glow of the fire behind her graceful figure and the sorrow, the
sweetness, the subtle tenderness in her face. Involuntarily he clenched
his hand; what right had that fellow to hold her? He turned, deeply
incensed at the thought and determined to get his overcoat and go
down to the city. He was already back in the conservatory before he
encountered his host.
Astry had just discovered that Billop had gone home in a taxicab hours
ago and he was looking for Belhaven. A game of bridge had kept him
in the drawing-room until the usual hour for the breaking up of the
gathering and he had supposed that Belhaven and Billop were still in
the house. It was impossible to telephone to Rachel now to ascertain
where her husband was and Astry had taken the last chance of finding
him either in the library or the conservatory. Instead, he found
Charter coming back from the door alone. A sudden recollection of Eva's
statement that Charter and Rachel loved each other startled Astry with
a new and swift suspicion. Had Charter anything to do with Belhaven's
absence? But the young officer's face, though grave, was quite
composed. Astry looked at him thoughtfully.
"You're going to have the south room, Charter," he said easily, "next
to Sedley. I hope he won't bore you to death; he snores like a Corliss
engine."
"If you don't mind, I won't stay," Charter replied, a little awkwardly.
"I'm used to roughing it, you know, and it isn't snowing now."
"Oh, but we couldn't think of it. The snow's knee-deep and not even the
tram is moving. I can't allow it; besides, you know, the Van Citterses
are staying."
"Oh, yes, but I can walk in easily, and it will be a comfort to Mrs.
Van Citters,--the old lady, I mean,--to be sure they're safe."
Astry leaned back against one of the Doric pillars and deliberately
rolled a cigarette. "I can't think of it; you've got to stay. It's
too far to walk in those drifts; at least wait until they get the
snow-plough going. I'm sorry we're so objectionable, you know."
Charter reddened. "I've been a jolly idiot again," he thought, but
what he said was quite simple.
"I don't want to be a bother and I really like a snow-storm."
"It looks as if we must be very inhospitable when a man prefers that--"
he waved his hand toward the door--"to a good bed and a fire."
"Oh, you can't understand how a fellow feels who's been soldiering for
years. It's like being shut up to get into a house; sometimes I really
long for the open. I'm going back there, too."
Astry offered a cigarette and a light, but he was observing the young
man narrowly. "I didn't know you were going back. Don't like us over
here then?"
"Well, I'd like to get out with a fighting squad just now. I suppose
the vagabond life has spoiled me; I'm only a dancing bear here!"
Astry knocked the ashes from the end of his cigarette.
"Ah, I see--it's pretty bad, isn't it? You're hard hit?"
Charter turned sharply and looked at him, then he reddened yet more
deeply. Of course Astry knew. He was aware of a shock of surprise;
if he knew, what did he think of Eva? After an instant of thought he
decided to let it pass without an attempt at denial.
"Yes," he assented dryly, "I'm hard hit but I can take my medicine."
"She's refused to get a divorce."