Manley looked down at her for a moment, saying nothing.
“Shall we, Manley? Let us start now, and try again. Let's play the fire burned up our old selves, and we're all new, and strong—shall we? And we won't feel any resentment for what is past, but we'll work together, and think together, and talk together, without any hidden thing we can't discuss freely. Please, Manley!”
He knew what she meant, well enough. For the last two days he had been drinking again. On the night of the dance he had barely kept within the limit of decent behavior. He had read Val's complete understanding and her disgust the morning after—and since then they had barely spoken except when speech was necessary. Oh, he knew what she meant! He stood for another minute, and she let go his arm and stood apart, watching his face.
A good deal depended upon the next minute, and they both knew it, and hardly breathed. His hand went slowly into a deep pocket of his overcoat, his fingers closed over something, and drew it reluctantly to the light. Shamefaced, he held it up for her to see—a flat bottle of generous size, full to within a inch of the cork with a pale, yellow liquid.
“There—take it, and break it into a million pieces,” he said huskily. “I'll try again.”
Her yellow-brown eyes darkened perceptibly. “Manley Fleetwood, you must throw it away. This is your fight—be a man and fight.”
“Well—there! May God damn me forever if I touch liquor again! I'm through with the stuff for keeps!” He held the bottle high, without looking at it, and sent it crashing against the stable door.
“Manley!” She stopped her ears, aghast at his words, but for all that her eyes were ashine. She went up to him and put her arms around him. “Now we can start all over again,” she said. “We'll count our lives from this minute, dear, and we'll keep them clean and happy. Oh, I'm so glad! So glad and so proud, dear!”
Kent had got half-way down the path from the house; he stopped when Manley threw the bottle, and waited. Now he turned abruptly and retraced his steps, and he did not look particularly happy, though he had been smiling when he left the kitchen.
Arline turned from the window as he entered.