She did not know what she had expected to happen or what she had hoped he would say, but she was conscious of bitter disappointment as she went up to bed.
It seemed as if she must have dreamed about those moments on Sunday when he had let her know that he loved her—that they could never have been real, and in her heart she knew that she was not satisfied. She wanted more than the little he had given.
She heard Chris come in just after she had gone to bed, and her heart thudded nervously as his step crossed the landing and stopped outside her door; but he went on again, and presently silence fell on the house.
And Marie fell asleep, to dream the old, terrible dream that she once more was drowning—that she was sinking down, down into bottomless depths of clear green water, and she woke, shivering and fighting for breath. Her face and the palms of her hands were wet with perspiration.
She sat up in bed and turned on the light. Only a Dream! She looked round the room with thankful eyes and yet . . . it would have been such a simple answer to all her troubles if Feathers had only let her drown that summer's morning.
* * * * * * * * * *
"If you two are going to the bazaar this afternoon," Chris said at lunch next day, "I'll go and look Feathers up. He asked me last night if I would, but I didn't promise," He looked at Marie, "I'll come with you if you like," he said quickly.
She laughed.
238 "Of course not! We shan't stay long, shall we, Dorothy?"
"We won't go at all if you'd rather not," Dorothy said.