She had married the man she loved, believing that he loved her. Well, he did not! She was his wife in name only! Would there be any great harm if she snapped the frail tie between them?
She sat there for a long, long time, tortured with doubts and indecision. What ought she to do?
Miss Chester came up presently to say good-night. She knew quite well that there had been some trouble between Chris and Marie, but she asked no questions.
"Sleep well, dearie," she said as she went away, and Marie smiled bitterly. How could anyone sleep well, torn as she was by such miserable indecision?
Did she love Feathers? She could not be sure. That she loved him as a dear friend she knew; that she was always happy with him she also knew; but there was none of the romance and wonder in it that had thrilled her when Chris asked her to marry him.
She wrung her hands in the darkness.
"I don't know—oh, I don't know!"
Chris cared nothing for her. His outburst this evening had been partly anger and partly outraged pride. His was a dog-in-the-manger affection; he did not want her himself, and yet he would allow nobody else to have her.
She got up presently and unlocked the door between their rooms, groping along the wall for the switch.
She looked round her husband's room with unhappy eyes, and something of the old tenderness flowed back into her heart.