Fair Margaret - Page 152/206

The man felt the tension more than the woman just then. It acted on his

state, and made it almost unbearable. His hands were locked behind him

and his fingers twisted each other till they changed colour. He moved

with the short, noiseless steps of a young wild animal measuring its

cage, up and down, up and down, without pause.

'It's this,' Margaret continued, much more gently than she had meant to

speak, 'I don't quite believe you. I'm almost sure you thought that I

would give up the stage if I had enough money to live on without my

work.' 'Yes, I did.' He stopped as if in anger and the words came sharply; but

he was not angry.

'You see!' Margaret answered triumphantly. 'I knew it! What becomes of

your story about the company now?' She rose also and began to walk. The big leathern arm-chair was between

them; he leaned his elbows on the back of it and watched her, and

compared her hungrily with the Aphrodite.

'All I have told you is true,' he said. 'The business happened to serve

two purposes, that's all. At least, I thought it would, and it was a

pleasure to help you without your knowing it. Why should I be sorry?

That money might as well come to you through me as through anybody

else. You're angry with me. Why? Because I'm too fond of you? It cannot

reasonably be about the money any more--the wretched money! If you

can't keep the filthy stuff--if it won't prevent you from going on the

stage after all--why then, give it away! Throw it away! Lose it, if you

can. But don't come to me with it, for it's the price of a thing I

bought in the way of business and which I won't give up, nor take as a

gift from anybody.' He spoke in such a harsh tone now that she paused in her short walk and

met his eyes, to see what he meant, over and above what he was saying.

She stood in front of the chair; he was leaning over the back of it,

with his hands together; one hand was slowly kneading the closed fist,

and the veins stood out on both. His voice was hoarse but rather low,

like that of a man who wants water.

The light in the room had a yellowish tinge now, and the window showed

a dull glare where there had been blue sky before. The lurid light got

into Logotheti's eyes, and was ready to flash while Margaret looked at

him. The marble Aphrodite took a creamy, living tint, and the little

shadows that modelled her quivered and deepened.