Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Europe -- Fiction; Love stories; Marriage -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction; Socialites -- Fiction
He smiled. “It’s immensely kind of you to feel that.”
“Oh, I do feel it!” She stopped short, and wondered what on earth she
had meant to say next, and why she had so abruptly lost the thread of
her discourse.
In the pause she heard him cough slightly and clear his throat. “Let me
say, then,” he began, “that I’m glad too--immensely glad that your own
future is so satisfactorily settled.”
She lifted her glance again to his walled face, in which not a muscle
stirred.
“Yes: it--it makes everything easier for you, doesn’t it?”
“For you too, I hope.” He paused, and then went on: “I want also to tell
you that I perfectly understand--”
“Oh,” she interrupted, “so do I; your point of view, I mean.”
They were again silent.
“Nick, why can’t we be friends real friends? Won’t it be easier?” she
broke out at last with twitching lips.
“Easier--?”
“I mean, about talking things over--arrangements. There are arrangements
to be made, I suppose?”
“I suppose so.” He hesitated. “I’m doing what I’m told--simply following
out instructions. The business is easy enough, apparently. I’m taking
the necessary steps--”
She reddened a little, and drew a gasping breath. “The necessary steps:
what are they? Everything the lawyers tell one is so confusing.... I
don’t yet understand--how it’s done.”
“My share, you mean? Oh, it’s very simple.” He paused, and added in a
tone of laboured ease: “I’m going down to Fontainebleau to-morrow--”
She stared, not understanding. “To Fontainebleau--?”
Her bewilderment drew from him his first frank smile. “Well--I chose
Fontainebleau--I don’t know why... except that we’ve never been there
together.”
At that she suddenly understood, and the blood rushed to her forehead.
She stood up without knowing what she was doing, her heart in her
throat. “How grotesque--how utterly disgusting!”
He gave a slight shrug. “I didn’t make the laws....”
“But isn’t it too stupid and degrading that such things should be
necessary when two people want to part--?” She broke off again, silenced
by the echo of that fatal “want to part.”...
He seemed to prefer not to dwell farther on the legal obligations
involved.
“You haven’t yet told me,” he suggested, “how you happen to be living
here.”
“Here--with the Fulmer children?” She roused herself, trying to catch
his easier note. “Oh, I’ve simply been governessing them for a few
weeks, while Nat and Grace are in Sicily.” She did not say: “It’s
because I’ve parted with Strefford.” Somehow it helped her wounded pride
a little to keep from him the secret of her precarious independence.
He looked his wonder. “All alone with that bewildered bonne? But how
many of them are there? Five? Good Lord!” He contemplated the clock with
unseeing eyes, and then turned them again on her face.
“I should have thought a lot of children would rather get on your
nerves.”
“Oh, not these children. They’re so good to me.”
“Ah, well, I suppose it won’t be for long.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account