He laid a hand on hers in clumsy comfort.
"It was a fine sort of death, anyway," he said in desperation. "Just the sort of death a man like Feathers would have chosen . . . Marie—he saved your life twice."
He realized too late that he had spoken tactlessly, but to his surprise she only smiled—a wise little smile which he could not fathom.
"Yes," she said softly, almost happily it seemed.
There was a little silence, then he broke out again.
"It seems a lifetime since we all met for the first time down at that bally old hotel, doesn't it? you and I, and Chris, and poor old Feathers."
"It's only a little more than three months." she told him.
303 "Is it?" he cleared his throat nervously. "Jove! how time flies," he said again, reminiscently.
They sat silent for some minutes, then he rose to his feet, and said that he must be going.
"I told Chris I would be in at seven," he said unthinkingly, then stopped, furious with himself for having mentioned the name he had sworn to avoid.