Marianna applauded the performance. Her teasing eyes informed Deb that she was a stiff little fool, putting a wholly idiotic construction on what was mere playful friendliness on the part of her host and hostess. So Deb lay down beside Felix.... It struck her suddenly that the wife has the supreme advantage over the girl in almost any conjunction of circumstances.
Frau Koch moved to the door. “Sleep well, dear children!” It was uttered in the mock-solemn spirit of a benison. But Deb was aware of malice in the woman’s stealthy little smile; more than malice—enmity. To her or to Felix?—She would have sprung upright again, save for the feeling that in lying down she had committed herself ... to what, she did not know. But she did know very definitely, as the door closed gently behind Marianna, that she had made a mistake, and that it was useless to try and repair it. Deb was to suffer all her life from an illusion that one step backward would not avail her after one step forward had already been taken.
... Felix had his back still turned to her. But he had abandoned the farcical pretence of snoring. They could not lie much longer in this absurd silence, back to back, solemn, motionless.... Deb began to laugh softly. It was really rather ridiculous, except—except that Marianna’s face had frightened her.
Should she jump up now—and run? No, that would give alarming point to the situation. Probably Felix had no intentions——
He turned sharply, pulled her round towards him, kissed her and kissed her. And he was thinking: “If this was what Marianna wanted, then there and there—and there——” The girl did not matter. She was not like a German Mädchen who has been nicely brought up and carefully guarded for matrimony. Her people had let her come here, to complete strangers. And she wore collarless blouses and had flirted conspicuously with von Sittart.
... Her throat—how long and thick and dusky white ... what a firm column for that three-cornered, weary little face.
Marianna was, he felt sure, just outside the closed door. What was her motive in all this? That when it came to it, when he found her out, she should also have an accusing finger to point?—“Can you wonder, my friends? First he does not give me a fur coat, and then he makes shameless love to the guest under my roof....”
Felix Koch was pale with anger and humiliation. While he had joined his wife in chaffing Deb, he had been inclined to shout aloud: “Who is the man? Who is he? What do you think I am made of, forcing this upon me?—After you have been six weeks in Switzerland away from me—and yesterday you were tired after the journey—too tired! ... and I—and I.... Now, this insult!”
He had controlled himself, curious to see what she would do next. He was not going to control himself any more. Let Marianna, if indeed she stood poised on tiptoe, just outside, her light eyes flickering spitefully, let Marianna realize how little he cared for her rebuffs, last night, and the night before.... Fur coats? Wives did not get fur coats unless they earned them better.
Deb did not try to break away from the cramping pressure of his arms. She recognized that she had been to blame; had been—careless, somewhere, she was not quite sure where. But she too had now a dim sense of Marianna’s object in inviting her, of Marianna’s pinched smile outside the door.