But through all these day-dreams ran a current of apprehension. It was funny: it was as though the wood and the strings of the orchestra played Arcadian melodies and in the bass the drums, softly but with foreboding, beat a grim tattoo. Sooner or later Walter must come home and her heart beat fast at the thought of meeting him: It was strange that he had gone away that afternoon without saying a word to her. Of course she was not frightened of him; after all what could he do, she repeated to herself; but she could not quite allay her uneasiness. Once more she repeated what she would say to him. What was the good of making a scene? She was very sorry, Heaven knew she didn’t want to cause him pain, but she couldn’t help it if she didn’t love him. It was no good pretending and it was always better to tell the truth. She hoped he wouldn’t be unhappy but they had made a mistake and the only sensible thing was to acknowledge it. She would always think kindly of him.
But even as she said this to herself a sudden gust of fear made the sweat start out in the palms of her hands. And because she was frightened she grew angry with him. If he wanted to make a scene, that was his lookout; he must not be surprised if he got more than he bargained for. She would tell him that she had never cared two pins for him and that not a day had passed since their marriage without her regretting it. He was dull. Oh, how he’d bored her, bored her, bored her! He thought himself so much better than any one else, it was laughable; he had no sense of humour; she hated his supercilious air, his coldness, and his self-control. It was easy to be self-controlled when you were interested in nothing and nobody but yourself. He was repulsive to her. She hated to let him kiss her. What had he to be so conceited about? He danced rottenly, he was a wet blanket at a party, he couldn’t play or sing, he couldn’t play polo and his tennis was no better than anybody else’s. Bridge? Who cared about bridge?
Kitty worked herself up into a towering passion. Let him dare to reproach her. All that had happened was his own fault. She was thankful that he knew the truth at last. She hated him and wished never to see him again. Yes, she was thankful that it was all over. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? He had pestered her into marrying him and now she was fed up.
‘Fed up,’ she repeated aloud, trembling with anger. ‘Fed up! Fed up!’
She heard the car draw up to the gate of their garden. He was coming up the stairs.
18
He came into the room: Her heart was beating wildly and her hands were shaking; it was lucky that she lay on the sofa. She was holding an open book as though she had been reading. He stood for an instant on the threshold and their eyes met. Her heart sank; she felt on a sudden a cold chill pass through her limbs and she shivered. She had that feeling which you describe by saying that some one was walking over your grave. His face was deathly pale; she had seen it like that once before, when they sat together in the Park and he asked her to marry him. His dark eyes, immobile and inscrutable, seemed pretematurally large. He knew everything.
‘You’re back early,’ she remarked.
Her lips trembled so that she could hardly frame the words. She was terrified. She was afraid she would faint.
‘I think it’s about the usual time.’
His voice sounded strange to her. It was raised on the last word in order to give his remark a casual air, but it was forced. She wondered if he saw that she was shaking in every limb. It was only by an effort that she did not scream. He dropped his eyes.
‘I’m just going to dress.’
He left the room. She was shattered. For two or three minutes she could not stir, but at last, raising herself from the sofa, with difficulty, as though she had. had an illness and were still weak, she found her feet. She did not know if her legs would support her. She felt her way by means of chairs and tables to the verandah and then with one hand on the wall went to her room. She put on a tea-gown and when she went back into her boudoir (they only used the drawing-room when there was a party) he was standing at a table looking at the pictures of the Sketch. She had to force herself to enter.
‘Shall we go down? Dinner is ready.’
‘Have I kept you waiting?’
It was dreadful that she could not control the trembling of her lips.
When was he going to speak?
They sat down and for a moment there was silence between them. Then he made a remark and because it was so commonplace it had a sinister air.
‘The Empress didn’t come in to-day,’ he said. ‘I wonder if she’s been delayed by a storm.’
‘Was she due to-day?’
‘Yes.’
She looked at him now and saw that his eyes were fixed on his plate. He made another observation, equally trivial, about a tennis tournament that was about to be played, and he spoke at length. His voice as a rule was agreeable, with a variety of tone, but now he spoke on one note. It was strangely unnatural. It gave Kitty the impression that he was speaking from a long way off. And all the time his eyes were directed to his plate, or the table, or to a picture on the wall. He would not meet hers. She realised that he could not bear to look at her.
‘Shall we go upstairs?’ he said when dinner was finished.
‘If you like.’
She rose and he held open the door for her. His eyes were cast down as she passed him. When they reached the sittingroom he took up the illustrated paper once more.
‘Is this a new Sketch? I don’t think I’ve seen it.’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t noticed.’
It had been lying about for a fortnight and she knew that he had looked it through and through. He took it and sat down. She lay again on the sofa and took her book. As a rule in the evening, when they were alone, they played coon-can or patience. He was leaning back in an arm-chair, in a comfortable attitude, and his attention seemed absorbed by the illustration he was looking at. He did not turn the page. She tried to read, but she could not see the print before her eyes. The words were blurred. Her head began to ache violently.
When would he speak?
They sat in silence for an hour. She gave up the pretence of reading, and letting her novel fall on her lap, gazed into space. She was afraid to make the smallest gesture or the smallest sound. He sat quite still, in that same easy attitude, and stared with those wide, immobile eyes of his at the picture. His stillness was strangely menacing. It gave Kitty the feeling of a wild beast prepared to spring.
When suddenly he stood up she started. She clenched her hands and she felt herself grow pale. Now!
‘I have some work to do,’ he said in that quiet, toneless voice, his eyes averted. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll go into my study. I daresay you’ll have gone to bed by the time I’ve finished.’
‘I am rather tired to-night.’
‘Well, good-night.’
‘Good-night.’
He left the room.
19
As soon as she could next morning she rang Townsend up at his office:
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘I want to see you.’
‘My dear, I’m awfully busy. I’m a working man.’
‘It’s very important. Can I come down to the office?’
‘Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.’
‘Well, come here then.’
‘I can’t possibly get away. What about this afternoon? And don’t you think it would be better if I didn’t come to your house?’
‘I must see you at once.’
There was a pause and she was afraid that she had been cut off.
‘Are you there?’ she asked anxiously.
‘Yes, I was thinking. Has anything happened?’
‘I can’t tell you over the telephone.’
There was another silence before he spoke again.
‘Well, look here, I can manager to see you for ten minutes at one if that’ll do. You’d better go to Ku-Chou’s and I’ll come along as soon as I can.’
‘The curio shop?’ she asked in dismay.
‘Well, we can’t meet in the lounge at the Hong-Kon
g Hotel very well,’ he answered.
She noticed a trace of irritation in his voice.
‘Very well. I’ll go to Ku-Chou’s.’
20
She got out of her rickshaw in the Victoria Road and walked up the steep, narrow lane till she came to the shop. She lingered outside a moment as though her attention were attracted by the bric-a-brac which was displayed. But a boy who was standing there on the watch for customers, recognising her at once, gave her a broad smile of connivance. He said something in Chinese to some one within and the master, a little, fat-faced man in a black gown, came out and greeted her. She walked in quickly.
‘Mr. Townsend no come yet. You go top-side, yes?’
She went to the back of the shop and walked up the rickety, dark stairs. The Chinese followed her and unlocked the door that led into the bedroom. It was stuffy and there was an acrid smell of opium. She sat down on a sandalwood chest.
In a moment she heard a heavy step on the creaking stairs. Townsend came in and shut the door behind him. His face bore a sullen look, as he saw her it vanished, and he smiled in that charming way of his. He took her quickly in his arms and kissed her lips.
‘Now what’s the trouble?’
‘It makes me feel better just to see you,’ she smiled.
He sat down on the bed and lit a cigarette.
‘You look rather washed out this morning.’
‘I don’t wonder,’ she answered. ‘I don’t think I closed my eyes all night.’
He gave her a look. He was smiling still, but his smile was a little set and unnatural. She thought there was a shade of anxiety in his eyes.
‘He knows,’ she said.
There was an instant’s pause before he answered.
‘What did he say?’
‘He hasn’t said anything.’
‘What!’ He looked at her sharply. ‘What makes you think he knows?’
‘Everything. His look. The way he talked at dinner.’
‘Was he disagreeable?’
‘No, on the contrary, he was scrupulously polite. For the first time since we married he didn’t kiss me goodnight.’
She dropped her eyes. She was not sure if Charlie understood. As a rule Walter took her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers and would not let them go. His whole body grew tender and passionate with his kiss.
‘Why do you imagine he didn’t say anything?’
‘I don’t know.’
There was a pause. Kitty sat very still on the sandal-wood box and looked with anxious attention at Townsend. His face once more was sullen and there was a frown between his brows. His mouth dropped a little at the corners. But all at once he looked up and a gleam of malicious amusement came into his eyes.
‘I wonder if he is going to say anything.’
She did not answer. She did not know what he meant.
‘After all, he wouldn’t be the first man who’s shut his eyes in a case of this sort. What has he to gain by making a row? If he’d wanted to make a row he would have insisted on coming into your room.’ His eyes twinkled and his lips broke into a broad smile. ‘We should have looked a pair of damned fools.’
‘I wish you could have seen his face last night.’
‘I expect he was upset. It was naturally a shock. It’s a damned humiliating position for any man. He always looks a fool. Walter doesn’t give me the impression of a fellow who’d care to wash a lot of dirty linen in public.’
‘I don’t think he would,’ she answered reflectively. ‘He’s very sensitive, I’ve discovered that.’
‘That’s all to the good as far as we’re concerned. You know, it’s a very good plan to put yourself in somebody else’s shoes and ask yourself how you would act in his place. There’s only one way in which a man can save his face when he’s in that sort of position and that is to pretend he knows nothing. I bet you anything you like that that is exactly what he’s going to do.’
The more Townsend talked the more buoyant he became. His blue eyes sparkled and he was once more his gay and jovial self. He irradiated an encouraging confidence.
‘Heavens knows, I don’t want to say anything disagreeable about him, but when you come down to brass tacks a bacteriologist is no great shakes. The chances are that I shall be Colonial Secretary when Simmons goes home, and it’s to Walter’s interest to keep on the right side of me. He’s got his bread and butter to think of, like the rest of us: do you think the Colonial Office are going to do much for a fellow who makes a scandal? Believe me, he’s got everything to gain by holding his tongue and everything to lose by kicking up a row.’
Kitty moved uneasily. She knew how shy Walter was and she could believe that the fear of a scene, and the dread of public attention, might have influence upon him; but she could not believe that he would be affected by the thought of a material advantage. Perhaps she didn’t know him very well, but Charlie didn’t know him at all.
‘Has it occurred to you that he’s madly in love with me?’
He did not answer, but he smiled at her with roguish eyes. She knew and loved that charming look of his.
‘Well, what is it? I know you’re going to say something awful.’
‘Well, you know, women are often under the impression that men are much more madly in love with them than they really are.’
For the first time she laughed. His confidence was catching.
‘What a monstrous thing to say.’
‘I put it to you that you haven’t been bothering much about your husband lately. Perhaps he isn’t quite so much in love with you as he was.’
‘At all events I shall never delude myself that you are madly in love with me,’ she retorted.
‘That’s where you’re wong.’
Ah, how good it was to hear him say that! She knew it and her belief in his passion warmed her heart. As he spoke he rose from the bed and came and sat down beside her on the sandalwood box. He put his arm round her waist.
‘Don’t worry your silly little head a moment longer,’ he said. ‘I promise you there’s nothing to fear. I’m as certain as I am of anything that he’s going to pretend he knows nothing. You know, this sort of thing is awfully difficult to prove. You say he’s in love with you; perhaps he doesn’t want to lose you altogether. I swear I’d accept anything rather than that if you were my wife.’
She leaned towards him. Her body became limp and yielding against his arm. The love she felt for him was almost torture. His last words had struck her: perhaps Walter loved her so passionately that he was prepared to accept any humiliation if sometimes she would let him love her. She could understand that; for that was how she felt towards Charlie. A thrill of pride passed through her, and at the same time a faint sensation of contempt for a man who could love so slavishly.
She put her arm lovingly round Charlie’s neck.
‘You’re simply wonderful. I was shaking like a leaf when I came here and you’ve made everything all right.’
He took her face in his hand and kissed her lips.
‘Darling.’
‘You’re such a comfort to me,’ she sighed.
‘I’m sure you need not be nervous. And you know I’ll stand by you. I won’t let you down.’
She put away her fears, but for an instant unreasonably she regretted that her plans for the future were shattered. Now that all danger was past she almost wished that Walter were going to insist on a divorce.
‘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 leting her go but holding her close to his breast he locked the door.
21
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 I don’t want to go all to pieces.’
Walter did not as usual when they were dining out give her a little 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.