"But there was no need of it, was there?"
"Not in one way. Only, I suppose I could have made myself useful somewhere, even if I did n't have to earn a living. Maybe there's a use for every one—somewhere."
He had left her side, and was staring out the window toward the ocean. She watched him anxiously. She had never seen him like this, and yet, in a way, this was the same Monte in whose eyes she had caught a glimpse of the wonderful bright light. It was the man who had leaned toward her as they walked on the shore the night before they reached Nice—a gallant prince of the fairy-books, ready to step into real life and be a gallant prince there.
Monte had never had a chance. Had he been left as Peter Noyes had been left, dependent upon himself, he would have done all that Peter had done, without losing his smile. Marjory must not allow him to lose that now. His mouth was drooping with such exaggerated melancholy that she felt something must be done at once. She began to laugh. He turned quickly.
"You look as if you had lost your last friend," she chided him. "If talking with Peter Noyes does that to you, I don't think you had better talk with him any more."
"He's worth more to-day, blind, than I with my two eyes."
"The trouble with Peter is that he can't smile," she answered. "After all, it would be a sad world if no one were left to smile."
The words brought back to him the phrase she had used at the Normandie: "I am depending on you to keep me normal."
Here was something right at hand for him to do, and a man's job at that. He had wanted a chance to play the game, and here it was. Perhaps the game was not so big as some,—it concerned only her and him,—but there was a certain added challenge in playing the little game hard. Besides, the importance of the game was a good deal in the point of view. If, for him, it was big, that was enough.
As he stood before her now, the demand upon him for all his nerve was enough to satisfy any man. To assume before her the pose of the carefree chump that she needed to balance her own nervous fears—to do this with every muscle in him straining toward her, with the beauty of her making him dizzy, with hot words leaping for expression to his dry lips, those facts, after all, made the game seem not so small.