"To think that my wife--my wife--"
"If you don't mind we won't talk about it."
Alexina was on the opposite side of the avenue and her head was in the air.
She had long since ceased to carry her spine in a tubercular droop and when
she chose she could draw her body up until it seemed to elongate like
the neck of a giraffe, and overtop Mortimer or whoever happened to have
incurred her wrath.
Mortimer glowered at her. He had many grievances. For the moment he forgot
that she might have any against him.
"And out here in broad daylight, almost on the street, in that tea gown--"
"I have often been quite on the street in similar ones. Going over to
Aileen's. You forget that the Western Addition is like a great park set
with the homes of people more or less intimate."
Mortimer made no further remarks. He had never pretended to be a match
for her in words. But the agitating incident seemed to have lifted him
temporarily at least out of the nether depths of his depression, for
although he talked little at dinner he appeared to eat with more relish.
As he settled himself to his cigar in a comfortable wicker chair on the
terrace and she was about to return to the house he spoke abruptly in a
faint firm voice.
"Will you stay here? I've got something to say to you."
"Oh?"
She wheeled about. His face was a sickly greenish white in the heavy shade
of the trees.
"It's--it's--something I've been wanting to say--tell you.
Pages:
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285