Marie said, "Oh, had he?" and lost interest. As yet money had not much significance for her, but she watched the closed library door with anxious eyes. Would it never open?
It was quite late that evening before she saw Chris again, and then he came into the drawing-room, where she was trying to read and trying not to listen for his step, and, crossing to where she sat, stood looking down at her.
It was getting dark—the June evening was drawing to a close—and she could not see his face very distinctly, though she felt in some curious way that there was a different note in his voice when he spoke to her.
"How old are you, Marie?"
She looked up amazed. Surely he ought to know her age when they had grown up together? But she answered at once: "I was eighteen last May."
"And a kid for your age, too," he said abruptly.
9 She closed her book, a faint sense of hurt dignity in her heart.
"I knew a girl who was married at eighteen," she said.
Christopher laughed. "I can't imagine you married, all the same." he said.
"Why not? I don't see why not," she objected, offendedly.