As she stood staring at it now, she was conscious of a wish that was almost a prayer for some such metamorphosis to happen again. She would have welcomed the old biting jealousy and disappointment if she could have driven this new feeling of cold indifference from her heart.
"He brought me some lovely lace," Miss Chester went on. "There is one thing about Chris, he never forgets to bring us presents when he has been away. He is always most generous."
Marie echoed the words flatly.
"Yes, he is always most generous." And, for the first time since she had overheard what Feathers had said in the hotel on the night of her wedding, the bitter thought awoke in her heart that, after all, it was only her money with which Chris was being generous—the price he had paid for his freedom.
"If Chris is going to be late home," she said restlessly, "I will 181 go to bed. I really am tired. It's the river, I suppose. Mr. Dakers says it is supposed to make people sleepy."
She had crossed to Miss Chester to kiss her good-night, when the door opened and Chris walked into the room.
CHAPTER XVI
"It is the little rift within the lute.
Which, widening ever, make the music mute."