He answered as angrily as she that he should choose his own friends, and spend his time as he liked; if she thought he was going to be tied to her apron strings for the rest of his life she was mistaken; he had been used to having his own way, and he was going to continue to have it. Having relieved himself of a few more violent remarks, he calmed down a little, strode over to the window and flung it wide.
"Dash it all," he went on presently, more quietly. "It's no worse than you walking about the whole time with Feathers. I might just as well cut up rough and forbid you to speak to him, but I'm not such a fool; I hope I can trust you." He liked the sound of that last phrase; he thought it exceedingly tactful; he looked round at his wife with a faint smile.
He thought he knew her so well—thought he had sounded every depth and shallow of her nature. All their lives they had had these little breezes, which had blown over almost at once and been forgotten.
He was horrified, therefore, to see Marie standing with her face buried in her hands, her whole slim body shaking with sobs.
Chris stood staring at her helplessly. Marie so seldom cried, it gave him a bad shock to see her so upset—he must have said a great deal more than he had intended. He flushed with angry shame.
"Marie—for heaven's sake!" He went to her and put his arms round her, clumsily, but still with something comforting in their clasp.
"Don't cry, for God's sake!" he begged agitatedly. "What did I say? Whatever it was, I didn't mean it—you know that!" He pressed her head down against his shoulder, keeping his hand on her soft hair.
"Sorry, Marie Celeste!" he said humbly. "I was a brute; it shall never happen again."
She pushed him gently from her, walking away to try and recover herself.
102 "It's all right," she said presently with an effort, her voice broken by little sobbing breaths. "It's all right. Please go away and leave me alone."