“Thank you,” Mary said with a smile that was the result of her sense of humor rather than from any tenderness.
It was then that Garson spoke. He was a delicate man in his sensibilities at times, in spite of the fact that he followed devious methods in his manner of gaining a livelihood. So, now, he put a question of vital significance.
“Do you love him?”
The question caught Mary all unprepared, but she retained her self-control sufficiently to make her answer in a voice that to the ordinary ear would have revealed no least tremor.
“No,” she said. She offered no explanation, no excuse, merely stated the fact in all its finality.
Aggie was really shocked, though for a reason altogether sordid, not one whit romantic.
“Ain't he young?” she demanded aggressively. “Ain't he good-looking, and loose with his money something scandalous? If I met up with a fellow as liberal as him, if he was three times his age, I could simply adore him!”
It was Garson who pressed the topic with an inexorable curiosity born of his unselfish interest in the woman concerned.
“Then, why did you marry him?” he asked. The sincerity of him was excuse enough for the seeming indelicacy of the question. Besides, he felt himself somehow responsible. He had given back to her the gift of life, which she had rejected. Surely, he had the right to know the truth.
It seemed that Mary believed her confidence his due, for she told him the fact.