“Oh, just this one more time won’t make any difference, mother! I guess my chatter is good for him, for he always seems blue when we start out, but by the time we come home he’s in as good spirits as I am. So it would really be unkind not to go, wouldn’t it, mother?”
“Well, dear, if you think best. But I shall be anxious about you, so please ask him to bring you back as soon as he can.”
When they returned in the late afternoon Isabella caught a glimpse, as the automobile stopped and she glanced up toward her mother’s room, of a man’s figure standing beside Mrs. Marne’s chair, near the window. Brand helped her out, and then, casting a keen glance at her, with a little laugh he took her by the arm and guided her up the path and across the porch to the door. Fumbling with her key, she scarcely noticed his departure and by the time she stepped inside, his machine was disappearing down the street.
As she entered the hall she saw a man descending the stairs. Looking up uncertainly, she staggered back a little and leaned against the wall.
“Bella!” he cried joyfully, and again, “Bella, darling!” and ran down the steps.
She gave a maudlin giggle. “Warren! Warren! Such s’prise! S’ glad t’ see you!” she muttered thickly and, lurching toward him, would have fallen had he not caught her.
“Bella! What is the matter?” he exclaimed in anxious tones, and then, in a moment, sudden disgust ringing in his voice: “Bella, you’re drunk! My God! And I meant to marry you next month! Motoring with a man and coming home drunk! Good-bye, Miss Marne! It’s lucky I discovered my mistake in time!”
He snatched his hat from the rack and slammed the door behind him; and she, as understanding of what had happened dawned upon her, fell forward upon the banister with a long, agonized cry.