§ iii
Alfred came, promptly, the next morning, and Andrée received him alone.
“Al,” she said. “Can we make a new start?”
He didn’t look at her. When Claudine had telephoned so urgently for him to come, he had expected something of this sort.
“I suppose we could make any number of them,” he said. “The question is, would there be any use in it?”
“You said—”
“I know all that I said. I said you could be free whenever you wanted. And that implied the same thing for me, Andrée.”
“I don’t want to be free.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because—I want—”
She held out her arms, her eyes filled with tears. But he did not move toward her.
“Al!” she cried. “Do please come here!”
“No,” he said. “Let’s not complicate the thing with—that. Just tell me what’s changed you. I’m here to listen.”
“Suppose—it was only that I’d found out I was wrong—and that I missed you, and wanted you back? “Wouldn’t that be enough? Haven’t you missed me?”
In spite of himself he was touched.
“I won’t pretend I haven’t.... It was a bit of a shock to me, you know. I’d never expected anything like that. I thought that you—that we were so—close—nothing could come between us.”
“Couldn’t you forget it? Al, it’s hard for me to—to beg like this! I can’t say anything more. I only ask you if you’re willing to start again.”
That was a voice which he found it hard indeed to withstand, a face that moved him beyond measure. Yet he was passionately anxious that no new mistake should be made.
“But what guarantee would we have that we’d do any better?” he cried.
“I think—” she began. “I think it would be different—now.”
“But why, Andrée? Do you see things differently? I mean—”
She had begun to cry a little.
“You see, Al ... there’s going to be a baby....”
“What!” he cried. His face had turned quite pale. “What! My God! Really?”
“Very really!” she answered, with a faint smile.
He sprang up and caught her in his arms, in a sort of desperation.
“Oh, Andrée! I’m so sorry! My lovely, beautiful girl! I’m so sorry!”
“Don’t!” she cried. “You make it worse! Be glad, can’t you? I thought you would be. I thought everyone would be—simply beaming.... I wanted you to be!”
“I’m not!” he said, doggedly. “I love you too much!”
“Do you?” she said, triumphantly.
“Now you’ve got it out of me,” he said. “I knew you would! Yes, I do love you—too much, I guess. I don’t want anyone but you, ever.”
“Oh, Al! Al! It’s so heavenly to have you back again, and hear you again, and see you—with your dear old rumpled hair. There’s no one like you!”
“I wish to God you didn’t have this before you!” he said, sombrely.
“But I’m glad, Al!” she told him. “It’s life!”