"You've no right to make your wife endure this misery and I tell you now I won't allow it."
Rachel's husband watched him thoughtfully, a drawn look changing his face yet more deeply.
"See here, Charter," he said suddenly, "I'm willing to say this: I've lived in the same house with Rachel long enough to be a changed man. She's humanized me. I'm not quite what you think me, and I'll let her decide in the end, but, by Jove, I won't give her up just for you; I'd die first!"
John looked at him squarely. "If you're a man," he said again, "you'll set her free; then she could choose. Now—if you hold her—"
"Well, and if I do?"
"Then," said John, "you're a damned scoundrel!" and he turned his back on him and walked out of the room.
XVII
Astry was amusing himself driving the billiard balls about on the table, practising some of his favorite strokes. He was an unusually graceful man and he showed it as he handled his cue, his cigarette between his teeth and his eyes narrowed in thought. He had long ago ceased to be a happy man. There had been moments, years before, when he had been considered rather jolly; men liked him and women liked him too. He was greatly changed; the hardening process had destroyed some of the more tender amenities of life.
He drove the ball successfully and stopped to chalk his cue; on the wire over his head one of his parrots balanced, sidling along and talking once and a while in strange jargon. Astry watched him, half amused, then he continued to play with the balls. The house was profoundly quiet; at the moment they had no house guests, though Eva courted company for she dreaded being alone with her husband. He had asked John Charter to come to them but John had refused. The refusal did not surprise Astry; it only confirmed him in certain suspicions and, as the balls danced away from his driving cue, he was thinking of Rachel. Hers was undoubtedly the figure of the drama and he knew that she was unhappy; he divined much more though he made no sign. But he was as other men; he desired love, he craved happiness, he had been embittered by the loss of both, poisoned by the contact of treachery, and he had ceased to believe, he had even ceased to forgive. Forgiveness is godlike, and very few of us ever know it, feel it, or receive it. Forgiveness is like the work in a stone quarry; it takes hard labor and only the morally great accomplish it. But Astry saw revealed Rachel's love for Eva and the sight of it was almost irritating; it seemed as if she wasted it, that Eva gave back so little. He had come to think that Eva had very little to give.
He continued to play with the balls. Presently the old clock in the hall chimed sweetly, five o'clock. Then he heard his wife coming. She had been out and had just returned; she came through the drawing-room, her dress rustling, her light footstep uneven. He reached up and, taking the chattering parrot from the wire, put him into the conservatory and came back with his cue in his hand just as Eva looked in.