Marie flew to find it for her. She avoided Chris for the rest of the morning for she was afraid of him now. Although she had deliberately precipitated matters, she awaited the issue with dread.
Chris did not come in to lunch, and, though once during the afternoon Marie heard his voice in the house, he did not seek her out, and at dinner time he was absent again.
Though nothing was said. Miss Chester could feel the tension in the air, and late that night she asked hesitatingly: "Is anything the matter, Marie?"
"Nothing—no, auntie, of course not."
But Miss Chester was not deceived, and her mind was racked with anxiety.
Marie felt as if she were waiting for something great to happen, though what it was she did not know. Every knock or ring of the bell made her pulses race.
That Chris was deliberately avoiding her she knew, and she wondered how long it would be before the breaking point came. She longed to get it over.
Once she caught sight of herself in the glass and was startled by her pallor and the strained look in her eyes. A frightened look it was, she thought, and she passed her hands across them as if to brush it out.
She stayed downstairs till Chris came in that night. She stood just outside the drawing-room door, her heart beating apprehensively. 213 Supposing he was the worse for drink, as he had been last night? But she need not have been afraid. Chris was sober enough. He had been walking the streets for hours, beating against the invisible bars that had so suddenly appeared in his life.
When he saw his wife his face hardened.