“If Raney could see for himself . . .,” I began.
“Let some one else go!”
Though I could not tell Barbara, I remembered vividly the night when I had sat alone in that room, begging O’Rane to come and keep me company. I remembered, too, his characteristic promise that he would see me through to the grave and beyond.
“He’s never asked me to do anything for him before. I’ve promised; and I’m afraid I can’t go back on it.”
Barbara stood up as though she were going to rejoin her guests. Physically she was in control of herself and could walk without difficulty or apparent pain; mentally she seemed to be on the verge of a collapse.
“Four and a half,” she muttered at the door.
“Four and a half what?,” I asked.
“Four and a half years since you made certain promises to me. Four and a half years since we were married. David has only to raise his little finger . . .”
“This is hardly the time to hold a post mortem on our marriage,” I said.
“And I’m hardly the person?,” she taunted.