"I knew I could count on you," she said.
"So I should hope."
"Oughtn't you to go and have your tiffin?"
"Oh, damn my tiffin."
He drew her more closely to him and now she was held tight in his arms. His mouth sought hers.
"Oh, Charlie, you must let me go."
"Never."
She gave a little laugh, a laugh of happy love and of triumph; his eyes were heavy with desire. He lifted her to her feet and not letting her go but holding her close to his breast he locked the door.
XXI
ALL through the afternoon she thought of what Charlie had said about Walter. They were dining out that evening and when he came back from the Club she was dressing. He knocked at her door.
"Come in."
He did not open.
"I'm going straight along to dress. How long will you be?"
"Ten minutes."
He said nothing more, but went to his own room. His voice had that constrained note which she had heard in it the night before. She felt fairly sure of herself now. She was ready before he was and when he came downstairs she was already seated in the car.
"I'm afraid I've kept you waiting," he said.
"I shall survive it," she replied, and she was able to smile as she spoke.
She made an observation or two as they drove down the hill, but he answered curtly. She shrugged her shoulders; she was growing a trifle impatient: if he wanted to sulk, let him, she didn't care. They drove in silence till they reached their destination. It was a large dinner party. There were too many people and too many courses. While Kitty chatted gaily with her neighbours she watched Walter. He was deathly pale and his face was pinched.
"Your husband is looking rather washed out. I thought he didn't mind the heat. Has he been working very hard?"
"He always works hard."
"I suppose you're going away soon?"
"Oh, yes, I think I shall go to Japan as I did last year," she said. "The doctor says I must get out of the heat if don't want to go all to pieces."
Walter did not as usual when they were dining out give her a smiling glance now and then. He never looked at her. She had noticed that when he came down to the car he kept his eyes averted, and he did the same when, with his usual politeness, he gave her his hand to alight. Now, talking with the women on either side of him, he did not smile, but looked at them with steady and unblinking eyes; and really his eyes looked enormous and in that pale face coal black. His face was set and stern.
"He must be an agreeable companion," thought Kitty ironically.
The idea of those unfortunate ladies trying to indulge in small talk with that grim mask not a little diverted her.
Of course he knew; there was no doubt about that, and he was furious with her. Why hadn't he said anything? Was it really because, though angry and hurt, he loved her so much that he was afraid she would leave him? The thought made her ever so slightly despise him, but good-naturedly: after all, he was her husband and he provided her with board and lodging; so long as he didn't interfere with her and let her do as she liked she would be quite nice to him. On the other hand perhaps his silence was due merely to a morbid timidity. Charlie was right when he said that no one would hate a scandal more than Walter. He never made a speech if he could help it. He had told her once that when he was subpoenaed* as a witness on a case where he was to give expert evidence he had hardly slept for a week before. His shyness was a disease.
And there was another thing: men were very vain, and so long as no one knew what had happened it might be that Walter would be content to ignore it. Then she wondered whether by any possibility Charlie was right when he suggested that Walter knew which side his bread was buttered. Charlie was the most popular man in the Colony and soon would be Colonial Secretary. He could be very useful to Walter: on the other hand he could make himself very unpleasant if Walter put his back up. Her heart exulted as she thought of her lover's strength and determination; she felt so defenceless in his virile arms. Men were strange: it would never have occurred to her that Walter was capable of such baseness, and yet you never knew; perhaps his seriousness was merely a mask for a mean and pettifogging* nature. The more she considered it the more likely it seemed that Charlie was right; and she turned her glance once more on her husband. There was no indulgence in it.
It happened that just then the women on either side of him were talking with their neighbours and he was left alone. He was staring straight in front of him, forgetful of the party, and his eyes were filled with a mortal sadness. It gave Kitty a shock.
XXII
NEXT day when she was lying down after luncheon, dozing, she was aroused by a knock at her door.
"Who is it?" she cried irritably.
At that hour she was unaccustomed to be disturbed.
"I."
She recognized her husband's voice and she sat up quickly.
"Come in."
"Did I wake you?" he asked as he entered.
"In point of fact you did," she answered in the natural tone she had adopted with him for the last two days.
"Will you come into the next room. I want to have a little talk with you."
Her heart gave a sudden beat against her ribs.
"I'll put on a dressing-gown."
He left her. She slipped her bare feet into mules and wrapped herself in a kimono. She looked in the glass; she was very pale and she put on some rouge. She stood at the door for a moment, nerving herself for the interview, and then with a bold face joined him.
"How did you manage to get away from the Laboratory at his hour?" she said. "I don't often see you at this sort of time."
"Won't you sit down?"
He did not look at her. He spoke gravely. She was glad to do as he asked: her knees were a little shaky, and unable to continue in that jocular tone she kept silent. He sat also and lit a cigarette. His eyes wandered restlessly about the room. He seemed to have some difficulty in starting.
Suddenly he looked full at her; and because he had held his eyes so long averted, his direct gaze gave her such a fright that she smothered a cry.
"Have you ever heard of Mei-Tan-Fu?" he asked. "There's been a good deal about it in the papers lately."
She stared at him in astonishment. She hesitated.
"Is that the place where there's cholera? Mr. Arbuthnot was talking about it last night."
"There's an epidemic. I believe it's the worst they've had for years. There was a medical missionary there. He died of cholera three days ago. There's a French convent there and of course there's the Customs man. Everyone else has got out."
His eyes were still fixed on her and she could not lower hers. She tried to read his expression, but she was nervous, and she could only discern a strange watchfulness. How could he look so steadily? He did not even blink.
"The French nuns are doing what they can. They've turned the orphanage into a hospital. But the people are dying like flies. I've offered to go and take charge."
"You?"
She started violently. Her first thought was that if he went she would be free and without let or hindrance could see Charlie. But the thought shocked her. She felt herself go scarlet. Why did he watch her like that? She looked away in embarrassment.
"Is that necessary?" she faltered.
"There's not a foreign doctor in the place."
"But you're not a doctor, you're a bacteriologist."
"I am an M. D., you know, and before I specialized I did a good deal of general work in a hospital. The fact that I'm first and foremost a bacteriologist is all to the good. It will be an admirable chance for research work."
He spoke almost flippantly and when she glanced at him she was surprised to see in his eyes a gleam of mockery. She could not understand.
"But won't it be awfully dangerous?"
"Awfully."
He smiled. It was a derisive grimace. She leaned her forehead on her hand. Suicide. It was nothing short of that. Dreadful! She had not thought he would take it like that. She couldn't let him do that. It was cruel. It was not her fault if she did not love him. She couldn't bear the thought that he should kill himself for her sake. Tears flowed softly down her cheeks.