Astute as he was, he did not suspect that Christine was using this method
to fathom his feeling for Sidney. Perhaps she hardly knew it herself.
"You might marry her yourself, K."
But he had himself in hand by this time, and she learned nothing from
either his voice or his eyes.
"On twenty dollars a week? And without so much as asking her consent?" He
dropped his light tone. "I'm not in a position to marry anybody. Even if
Sidney cared for me, which she doesn't, of course--"
"Then you don't intend to interfere? You're going to let the Street see
another failure?"
"I think you can understand," said K. rather wearily, "that if I cared
less, Christine, it would be easier to interfere."
After all, Christine had known this, or surmised it, for weeks. But it hurt
like a fresh stab in an old wound. It was K. who spoke again after a
pause:-"The deadly hard thing, of course, is to sit by and see things happening
that one--that one would naturally try to prevent."
"I don't believe that you have always been of those who only stand and
wait," said Christine. "Sometime, K., when you know me better and like me
better, I want you to tell me about it, will you?"
"There's very little to tell. I held a trust. When I discovered that I
was unfit to hold that trust any longer, I quit. That's all."
His tone of finality closed the discussion. But Christine's eyes were on
him often that evening, puzzled, rather sad.
They talked of books, of music--Christine played well in a dashing way. K.
had brought her soft, tender little things, and had stood over her until
her noisy touch became gentle. She played for him a little, while he sat
back in the big chair with his hand screening his eyes.
When, at last, he rose and picked up his cap; it was nine o'clock.
"I've taken your whole evening," he said remorsefully. "Why don't you tell
me I am a nuisance and send me off?"
Christine was still at the piano, her hands on the keys. She spoke without
looking at him:-"You're never a nuisance, K., and--"
"You'll go out to see Tillie, won't you?"
"Yes. But I'll not go under false pretenses. I am going quite frankly
because you want me to."
Something in her tone caught his attention.
"I forgot to tell you," she went on. "Father has given Palmer five
thousand dollars. He's going to buy a share in a business."