He took it and held it a moment while he searched her eyes. Then he turned and made his way blindly out of the room and out of the house.
He walked heavily down the driveway to the old gates. An impulse had brought him—an impulse that he had been too broken to resist. Now, in its reaction, he despised his own weakness. What right had he to worry Virginia? But his mind was still in conflict; he could no longer think concisely or even clearly. Like a man in a dream he walked out of the gates and turned into the road toward town.
The look in Virginia’s eyes, the look that had roused him, came back to him only dimly. It was obscured by the scene that haunted him—the scene in the court-room. He could see the crowd of staring faces again, the judge on the bench, judicial and disinterested, the flushed, scowling countenance of the prosecuting attorney, the jury—and Daniel! How coolly his brother had stood in that heated, tense atmosphere! How his eyes had kindled and his voice pleaded for the boy’s life! For jail would have been a living death to one so young.
Leigh rose before him, too. He could see the boy’s beautiful face and his girlish eyes, and the change in him, the terrible change. The look of a man—a man who has killed—was in those young eyes!
William drew his breath hard. Her work, he thought bitterly! And yet how she haunted him! He could see more plainly than anything else her small, white face with its pointed chin and its fawn-like eyes. He could hear her voice, sweet and hurrying and light, with the spell of sex in it—how it haunted him, too! But he was done with her. He set his teeth hard and clenched his hand, walking on.
He walked blindly. A taxi passed, but he was unaware of it. He never looked up, he looked down into the dust of the road, for his heart was heavy and bitter. He was done with her!
Fanchon, who had hidden in the corner of the taxi that he might not see her, leaned forward now and looked out. She was on her way to the refuge she had found in the country—a poor, desolate place, but all that she could pay for—more than she could pay for, if the truth be told. She felt ill and weak, and she must go somewhere—anywhere, away from the Carters. There was fever in her blood and her lips were dry, but her brilliant, restless eyes looked out after the figure in the road.
She had seen him come out of the Denbigh gates!
She had thought of this, she had pictured it. If he got a divorce, he would marry Virginia—she never doubted that Virginia would take him. And now, now when it seemed to her that it was already on its way to accomplishment, she sank back into her corner aghast.
She lifted a shaking hand and pushed back the soft hair from her forehead. It was a helpless, thoughtless gesture, but she had pulled off her gloves, and the light caught the rings on her fingers. Suddenly she saw her wedding-ring—William’s ring. She held out her small hand and stared at it, choking back the sob in her throat. She remembered the look in his eyes when he had put that ring on her finger. How he had loved her then!