A surge of resentment against the absent man rose in Clayton Spencer's
mind. How like the cynicism of Chris's whole attitude that he should
thrust the responsibility for his going onto Audrey. He had made her
unhappy while he was with her, and now his death, if it occurred, would
be a horror to her.
"I don't know why I burden you with all this," she said, rather
impatiently. "I daresay it is because I knew you'd have the money. No,
I don't mean that. I'd rather go to you in trouble than to any one else;
that's why."
"I hope you always will."
"Oh, I shall! Don't worry." But her attempt at gayety fell flat. She
lighted a cigaret from the stand beside her and fell to studying his
face.
"What's happened to you?" she asked. "There's a change in you, somehow.
I've noticed it ever since you came home. You ought to be smug and
contented, if any man should. But you're not, are you?"
"I'm working hard. That's all. I don't want to talk about myself," he
added impatiently. "What about you? What are you going to do?"
"Sell my house, pay my debts and live on my own little bit of an
income."
"But, good heavens, Audrey! Chris has no right to cut off like this, and
leave you. I don't know the story, but at least he must support you. A
man can't just run away and evade every obligation. I think I'll have to
go after him and give him a talking to."
"No!" she said, bending forward. "Don't do that. He has had a bad scare.
But he's had one decent impulse, too. Let him alone, Clay."
She placed the money on the stand, and rose. As she faced him, she
impulsively placed her hands on his shoulders.
"I wish I could tell you, Clay," she said, in her low, slightly husky
voice, "how very, very much I admire you. You're pretty much of a man,
you know. And--there aren't such a lot of them."
For an uneasy moment he thought she was going to kiss him. But she let
her hands fall, and smiling faintly, led the way downstairs. Once down,
however, she voiced the under lying thought in her mind.
"If he comes out, Clay, he'll never forgive me, probably. And if he
is--if he doesn't, I'll never forgive myself. So I'm damned either way."
But ten minutes later, with a man on either side of her, she was sitting
at the piano with a cigaret tucked behind her ear, looking distractingly
pretty and very gay and singing a slightly indecorous but very witty
little French song.