Merle's small, white teeth marked the crimson lip in a faint line. Slowly her black brows drew down in a frown. Her hands clenched.
"Anne, I would have died for him—I really would have once."
"Merle, don't go on with this. You're doing it in a fit of anger. You'll be sorry."
"I'm not doing it in a fit of anger. Didn't I tell you I thought it out, wrote it out? And do you know what was the last item on the balance sheet for Ben? Well, if I stay and marry him, it's a baby, a warm, cuddly thing like Rogie. And I'm going to dress him in the loveliest clothes, and nobody will kick about the starving Russians or the dying Roumanians. I'll feed him out of a gold-monogrammed nursing bottle if I take the fancy, and Ben will think it's grand."
At the exaggerated picture Anne smiled. Merle smiled, too, and then her eyes darkened again, just for a moment, as if a shadow had crossed them.
"Anne, you might let me know if Tom puts over that case he's gone on. I used to listen to it till I most went frantic, but it's—well, the last thing I'll ever hear of the crowd and I'll feel more finished, neat and tidy-like, to know. I'll be here another two weeks, anyhow."
"All right. I'll let you know."
But Anne did not keep her promise, because two days later she saw in the society news that Mr. Benjamin Wilson was leaving unexpectedly for Europe. The next day Black Tom came back. He had lost his case.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The days passed. Roger did not mention Merle. He was often at the office now in the evening and Anne knew he and Tom were working harder than ever. Some Hindoo revolutionists had been arrested and an almost hopeless fight to free them was under way. Picturesque men with sad, dark eyes came to the cottage to talk to Roger, and Roger made quick trips to adjoining towns to see strange men in secret places.