She had not taken off her nurse’s costume, the white cap and dress with the Red Cross band.
But then, in her Red Cross uniform Barbara Thornton frequently made people think of a stage nurse, she looked so little and young and so extremely piquant.
Even at the present moment Nona thought that no one had the right to take Barbara too seriously. She was really too young to have assumed the responsibilities of marriage.
“I have been behaving very badly, Nona,” Barbara confessed suddenly, but not ceasing her walking up and down, “and I am being punished for it with the comfortable knowledge that I deserve my punishment. But the worst is my punishment has only begun. I don’t know what will become of me when Dick finally hears.”
Nona sat down on one of the two little stiff-backed chairs in the room, but made no suggestion that Barbara should follow her example.
She knew that Barbara would be able to talk more easily if she continued moving.
“You know, Nona, that I have been allowing Lieutenant Kelley to think I was unmarried. No, you do not know this. You only heard me speak of his making this mistake at first, and you must have supposed I had told him the truth before now. But I did not tell him, and, well, I might as well confess the whole story, as I have no right to spare myself anything. Ever since our meeting I have been flirting with him a little. Oh, I did not consider that it would make any difference to him, I presumed he would soon be going away to fight and I meant to confess then. I simply thought as he was a Kentuckian, and accustomed to making himself charming to girls, he was amusing himself with me just as I was having a good time with him. I even supposed he might be engaged to someone at home. Certainly I never dreamed of his taking his feeling for me seriously. Then, this afternoon, when Lieutenant Kelley had an hour off duty and I met him in the garden at Madame Bonnèt’s, why—why, Nona, he told me he loved me, and actually asked me to marry him. Some day, perhaps, I may get over the shame and pain of it, but tonight I feel that I never can.”
And, dropping down on the side of her bed, Barbara covered her face with her hands.
“I had to tell him the truth then, Nona, and there is something else I shall never forget, and that is the way Lieutenant Kelley looked at me and the apology he made, oh, not to me, but to my husband: ‘It has been my mistake, of course, all along, Mrs. Thornton, you cannot have intended me to misunderstand you. I have simply been inconceivably stupid, and I hardly know what amends I do not owe to your husband.’ Then, Nona, he looked such a boy and as if he had been so horribly hurt in his faith in women and in his own sense of honor. I don’t know what I said to him afterwards, I scarcely know what I am saying to you now. Of course I told him that he did not really care for me, but, somehow, I am afraid he does, Nona, and oh, isn’t it dreadful that one cannot suffer alone for one’s sins in this world? I deserve anything, but Hugh isn’t responsible and neither is Dick, and yet they must both be unhappy for my fault. I think, perhaps, when I tell Dick of my deception he may not care to have me for his wife any longer.”
Barbara appeared so utterly dejected that if the situation had been less serious Nona would have smiled. Yet, somehow, she could not find anything to make her feel like smiling at this moment. She thought of saying to Barbara that, perhaps, she need not make a confession to her husband. Then Nona decided that she had no right to offer any possible advice. Since she was unmarried herself, she did not understand how complete a confidence should exist between a man and wife. It might also be a safeguard to Barbara’s future if she felt impelled to confide her first breach of faith to her husband. Nona knew Dick Thornton well enough not to envy Barbara her confession.