CHAPTER XVIII
"Trifles light as air, are to the jealous,
Confirmation sure, as proof of holy writ"
IT was impossible to be ungracious. Marie took Dorothy Webber into the drawing-room while Chris sent the car away. He stood looking after it with a frown above his eyes. It was rotten luck, Dorothy turning up like this just as everything had been going so swimmingly and he was conscious of a vague apprehension.
He joined the girls in the drawing-room for tea, and Miss Chester came down, bringing her eternal knitting.
She was pleased to see Dorothy, for she thought she would be a nice companion for Marie. She said that she hoped she would stay a long time. She could not understand why Chris was so silent or why he kept looking at his wife with a queer sort of chagrin in his face.
"I'm looking forward to another round with you," Dorothy said, turning to him. "Of course, there are lots of links round about?"
"I'm going to teach Marie to play," Chris said. He had made up his mind that if they went away he would teach her and had been looking forward to it. He felt decidedly annoyed with Dorothy for having what he chose to call "butted in."
He sulked about the house till dinner-time, then went to Marie's room as she was changing her frock. His eyes were rueful as he looked at her. "It's the devil's own luck, isn't it?" he said boyishly.
"What do you mean—about Dorothy?"