Chris had opened a banking account for her, and told her to draw what she wanted and amuse herself; but Marie had not yet learnt the value of money, and beyond spending a few pounds on clothes and odds and ends she had not touched it.
He had given her a diamond engagement ring and another beautiful ring when they were married. One afternoon when they were lunching alone. Miss Chester being absent, he said to Marie suddenly:
"Wouldn't you like a pearl necklace or something?" The vagueness of the question made her smile; there was something so boyish about it, so very like the Chris she had known years ago.
"I should if you think I ought to have one," she answered.
114 "I don't know about 'ought to,'" he said, dubiously. "But other women have trinkets and things, and pearls would suit you, you're so dark! We'll go out this afternoon and look at some, shall we?"
She flushed with pleasure; it was so seldom that Chris suggested taking her anywhere. She ran upstairs to dress, feeling almost happy; she was so easily influenced by Chris—a kind word or thought from him kept her content for days, just as a cross word or an act of indifference carried her down to the depths of despair.
It was a sunny afternoon, and a heavy shower of rain overnight had washed the smoky face of London clean and left it with a wonderful touch of brightness.
"Are we going in the car?" Marie asked, and was glad when Chris said that he would rather walk if she did not mind.
They set off together happily enough. It was on occasions like this that Marie tried to cheat herself into the belief that Chris did care for her a little after all, and that it was only his awkward self-consciousness that prevented him from letting her know of it— a happy illusion while it lasted!
It was after they had bought the necklace—a charming double row of beautiful pearls—and were having tea that Chris said suddenly: "Marie Celeste, why don't you go about more and enjoy yourself?"