He looked toward Jeff. “Mrs. Viles is unfortunately subject to moments of great depression,” he explained courteously. “In these moments—” He stopped, arched his eyebrows meaningly, as though Jeff must understand.
“You mean she has crazy spells?” Jeff asked bluntly. Viles protested wordlessly. “She don’t act crazy to me,” Jeff commented. “But you may be right. She married you.”
He was seeking quite deliberately to goad the other man into violence, but Viles controlled himself, said across the table to his wife, “We have been greatly concerned, my dear.”
“I’m sorry,” she said unconvincingly.
“It is a relief to know that you have not suffered. That scratch across your temple—”
Lucia touched with her fingers the slight wound. “It is nothing.”
“You must have a good rest in bed when we get back to the yacht,” he told her. There was an elephantine sportiveness in the man’s demeanor. “I’m going to enjoy taking care of you.”
She was silent for a moment, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll go back,” she told him. “I don’t think I’ll go back at all.”
He tried to laugh easily. “You’re fancying things, Lucia. It is your home. You belong there.”
She faced him with a moment of decision. “If you withdraw the charge against Frank I’ll go back with you, Leander.”