"Yes—I'd never been before. We went up to Wargrave. It was lovely!"
She answered mechanically, in little jerky sentences.
"We had some good times camping out years ago," Chris said. "It's all right if the weather holds."
"Yes," said Marie. She looked at him with brown eyes that were 183 merely critical and no longer slavishly adoring. He was handsomer than ever, she thought, but the wonderful feeling of pride in him had gone. She could admire him almost with indifference.
"It was queer, you meeting Dorothy," she said, with an effort, and Chris said, "Yes, the world is a small place."
"I told her that I was sure you would be pleased to have her to stay any time she liked to write and fix it up," he added. "She plays a fine game of golf, but I beat her in the end."
"She was always good at sports," Marie said mechanically.
Miss Chester gathered up her knitting and said it was time she went to bed. It was infinitely pathetic to her, because both Chris and Marie immediately protested that it was still quite early, and that surely there was no hurry.
But she persisted, and went off to her room.
There was an awkward silence when she had gone. Chris lit a cigarette and forgot to keep it alight.