She made the terms to escape from him and went to her room and stood for a moment with her hands hard pressed over her eyes.
The storm had come so suddenly. She wondered what had been responsible for it. Had Mrs. Heriot said anything more—or could it have been Feathers himself? She could hardly force herself to go down to dinner, as she was shaken to the depths of her soul.
Chris talked ceaselessly during dinner. He drank a good deal of wine, and his face grew flushed and his eyes excited.
"You're not going out again, surely?" Miss Chester asked him when afterwards he came to the drawing-room for a moment in his overcoat.
"I am—just for a stroll; it's so hot indoors." He looked at Marie. "Will you come?" he asked jerkily.
"I'd rather not; I'm tired—I think I'll stay with Aunt Madge."
But as soon as he had gone she went up to her room and sat down in the darkness. A lifetime seemed to have been crowded into this one day. She felt that she had aged years since they started out in the morning.
207 Feathers loved her! The knowledge stood out like a beacon light in the darkness. She knew what her life would be with him—happiness and contentment, and she did so long for happiness.
He was a good man, and a strong man; all her empty heart seemed to stretch out to him in passionate gratitude and longing.
But she was married . . . She felt for her wedding ring in the darkness and held it fast.