CHAPTER XVIII

"Trifles light as air, are to the jealous, Confirmation sure, as proof of holy writ"

IT was impossible to be ungracious. Marie took Dorothy Webber into the drawing-room while Chris sent the car away. He stood looking after it with a frown above his eyes. It was rotten luck, Dorothy turning up like this just as everything had been going so swimmingly and he was conscious of a vague apprehension.

He joined the girls in the drawing-room for tea, and Miss Chester came down, bringing her eternal knitting.

She was pleased to see Dorothy, for she thought she would be a nice companion for Marie. She said that she hoped she would stay a long time. She could not understand why Chris was so silent or why he kept looking at his wife with a queer sort of chagrin in his face.

"I'm looking forward to another round with you," Dorothy said, turning to him. "Of course, there are lots of links round about?"

"I'm going to teach Marie to play," Chris said. He had made up his mind that if they went away he would teach her and had been looking forward to it. He felt decidedly annoyed with Dorothy for having what he chose to call "b.u.t.ted in."

He sulked about the house till dinner-time, then went to Marie's room as she was changing her frock. His eyes were rueful as he looked at her. "It's the devil's own luck, isn't it?" he said boyishly.

"What do you mean--about Dorothy?"

"Yes. Why the d.i.c.kens she wanted to come here I'm hanged if I know!"

Marie smiled faintly.

"Well, we both said we should be pleased to see her at any time, didn't we?"

"I know--but coming just now!" He took up one of her silver brushes and fingered it nervously. "I was looking forward to taking you away, Marie Celeste."

"Perhaps she won't stay long," Marie said, with an effort.

She did not know if she were glad or sorry that Dorothy had so unexpectedly intervened. She had rather dreaded going away with Chris, and yet it had been a relief to know that at last there was some sort of an understanding between them.

Dorothy monopolized most of the conversation at dinner time, and addressed herself chiefly to Chris. She was a pleasant-looking girl, very brown-skinned and healthy, with straightforward gray eyes and fair hair, which she wore brushed back and screwed into rather a business-like and unbecoming k.n.o.b.

She talked a great deal about golf, and seemed rather surprised at Chris' lack of enthusiasm. She kept looking at Marie in a puzzled sort of way.

During those weeks in Scotland she had formed her own opinion of this marriage, and therefore had not had the least hesitation in throwing herself on Marie's hospitality. A man who had been married so short a time and who could leave his wife at home while he spent a month in Scotland playing golf would certainly not object to a third person in the house. So she argued, with some reason, as she unpacked her boxes and settled down comfortably in the best spare room.

"It's ages since I was in London for any time," she said. "I'm going to enjoy myself thoroughly. Marie, where do you buy your frocks? They make mine look as if they came out of the ark, don't they?"

Marie laughed. She had been very fond of this girl at school, but lately all her old affections seemed somehow to have shifted. The fault was in herself, she knew, so she tried her best to be nice to Dorothy to make up for the old feeling that was no longer in her heart.

"I'll take you to all the shops." she said. "We'll have a long day to-morrow."

"And where do I come in?" Chris asked quickly. His eyes were pleading as they looked at his wife.

"Men always hate shopping, don't they?" Dorothy chimed in. "They always look dreadfully out of place, anyway, poor dears."

"Well, I'll be the happy exception to prove the rule," Chris declared, and he kept his word. He trudged round the West End with his wife and Dorothy the following morning, and did his best not to appear bored. He took them to lunch at the Savoy, and escorted them to more shops afterwards.

"I think you've got a model husband," Dorothy said, when at last they drove home. "I never would have believed he was capable of it when we were up in Scotland. It only shows how one can be deceived."

But Chris gave a deep sigh of relief when they reached home. He went off to the dining-room and mixed himself a strong whiskey. He felt irritable, though he tried manfully to suppress his irritation. What waste of time it all was, he thought--trudging round on hot pavements, in and out stuffy, uninteresting shops, when one might be out in the country or up on the Scotch moors.

For three days he did his duty n.o.bly. He was always in to meals--he took Marie and Dorothy to a matinee, and to dinner at the Carlton.

"We ought to have had another man to make a fourth," he said to his wife afterwards. "I'll ask Feathers to come to-morrow."

He did ask him, and Feathers refused. He had an appointment, he said, and would come another day.

"What about Italy?" Chris inquired over the 'phone, and Feathers said that he expected to go in about ten days' time.

Chris told Marie.

"We ought to ask him round before he goes," he said. "You write and ask him to dinner, Marie Celeste."

She wanted to refuse, but did not like to.

"Very well." She was looking pale and tired, and Chris' eyes watched her anxiously.

After a moment he asked:

"How long is Miss Webber going to stay?"

"I don't know. I can't very well ask her to go, can I?" Chris mooned around the room.

"I wish she'd go," he said inhospitably.

Marie smiled.

"I'm afraid you've had rather a dull week," she admitted. "Why don't you go for a day's golf to-morrow. Take Dorothy--she would love it, I know."

"I'll go if you come."

"Nonsense. You know how tired I got when we went before. I shall be quite all right at home, and I do hate to know you are tied to the house all day."

He looked hurt, and she hastened to add kindly: "It's been very good of you, Chris, and I do thank you."

He laid his hand on her shoulder.

"If you're pleased that's all I care about," he said... .

To Marie's surprise. Feathers rang up and accepted her invitation.

She answered the 'phone herself, and the sound of his voice sent her pulses racing, and the hot blood rushing to her cheeks.