"To the right man," said Archie directly. "To you—Because I think you are the right man. She's been more contented since you've been here than I ever knew her to be. Of course you're twice her age, but that don't count with brainy people. And you could give her everything I can't—not just things; you know what I mean! Travel, education, all that. She's in your class, sir, not mine.—Will you do it?"
Nikolai looked rather bewildered. "Do what, Blair?"
"Oh, I don't know. Be nice to her all you can, read poetry to her, get her to care for you. Make love to her, if you want!—You can bet I wouldn't say that to many men—" he laughed forlornly—"but you're different, somehow. I can trust you."
"Thank you." Nikolai's face lit with a very charming smile. "Yes, I think you can trust me—And in case your scheme were successful, if I should prove to be 'the right man'—what about you?"
"Oh, me? Why, I'd just naturally fade out of the landscape."
"How do you mean?"
"There're lots of ways. A cramp in swimming, or an accident when you're cleaning a gun, or a dose of the wrong medicine—"
Nikolai's brows met sharply. "You mean suicide?"
"Sure! Why not? It's done every day, and done so the insurance companies can't prove a thing, too."
Nikolai rose and stood beside him. "You, who say that you love her," he said sternly, "you who cannot bear that she should suffer even to obtain happiness—you would condemn her to a lifetime of grief and remorse? You might perhaps deceive others. Do you think you could deceive Joan? Happy or not, you know that she cares for you, Blair!"