CHAPTER XII
“ASHES”
The following Monday morning brought an ugly scene with Gilbert, who learned not only the tragic and sensational news from the daily paper, but his wife’s part in it. For somehow the reporters had found out that she was present at the performance, and “the beautiful Mrs. Currey” was credited in one sensational rag with having “dashed forward heroically to try and save her sister-in-law, The Girlie Girl, from the impact of the curtain.” Claudia had not reckoned for this notoriety, and if Gilbert had shown any human sympathy with poor Fay she would have forgiven his ebullition of temper as excusable under the circumstances.
“You deliberately took advantage of my being in the country to frequent low music-halls with this woman,” he flung at her, his eyes bloodshot with anger.
Claudia controlled her rising anger. “I went on the spur of the moment, Gilbert. Jack came in to fetch me on Saturday afternoon.”
“I suppose you’ve been planning it for some time,” he sneered. “It was a nice thing to have to explain to my father and mother. My mother! who has never been in a music-hall in her life.”
“Perhaps it would do her good if she had.... You talk as if I knew what was going to happen.”
“Scandal on scandal!”
“Scandal! Is that all you can call it?” cried Claudia, a picture of Fay, so pitifully flattened out under the curtain, rising before her eyes. “Do you realize that she is paralysed for life—that everything is finished for her?”
“It’s a pity she wasn’t killed outright,” returned Gilbert callously, “instead of remaining a disgrace to the family. But my mother warned me long ago,” he added injudiciously, almost beside himself with rage, for now these paroxysms grew on him and contorted any sense of fairness or kindness that had ever been in his composition.