And his mind went back again to young Atkins with angry persistence. Young cub! If he had been making love to Marie Celeste, he would break his neck for him.
With singular blindness, he believed that the surest way to put things right between himself and Marie, was to ignore the fact that anything was wrong.
When they met he was always smiling and cheerful, but he never asked her to go out with him, never showed the slightest interest in what she did, or how she spent her time.
Miss Chester looked on in troubled perplexity. She loved them both, and did not know with which of them the real fault lay.
She was afraid to ask questions, so matters were just allowed to drift, and whatever battles Marie had to fight, she alone knew of them.
She spent a great deal of her time with Miss Chester; she drove with her and walked with her, and patiently wound wool for the knitting of that interminable shawl.
She had not seen Feathers since the day on the river, though she knew that he was often with Chris, and her heart was sore at the loss of her friend.
She missed him terribly, though their companionship had only lasted a little more than a week, and it hurt her inexpressibly to hear the casual way in which Chris spoke of him—Feathers had been on the ran-dan! Feathers had lost sixty pounds at poker! Feathers had had to be taken home from his club in a taxi.
Miss Chester looked up from her work.
"Chris, what is the ran-dan?" she asked.