"There's a good deal of the cave-man left in you, James, argue as you may. Do you think any one but a jealous man could talk as you are talking now? 'Deny it if you can'—what do you care whether I deny it or not, according to what you just said? Oh, James, how are you living up to your part of the bargain?"
Her tone was free from rancor or spite, and her words had their effect. James was not beyond appreciating the justice in what she said. He left his chair and raised his hand to his forehead with a gesture of bewilderment.
"Oh, Lord, I suppose you're right," he muttered, and began pacing the room.
So they remained in silence for some time, she sitting quietly in her chair as before and he walking aimlessly up and down, desperately trying to adjust himself to this new fact. It is strange how people will give themselves away when they begin talking; he had been so sure of himself in his thoughts; he had gone over such matters so satisfactorily in his own head! Beatrice understood his plight and respected it; it was not for her, after these last few days, to minimize the trials of self-discovery....
The maid popped in at the pantry door and popped out again.
"All right, Mary, you can take the things," said Beatrice, and led the way into the living room.
There was no air of finality in this move, but the slight domestic incident at least had the effect of putting a check on introspection and restoring things to a more normal footing. Once in the living room—it was a large high room, built as a studio and reaching up two stories—they were both much more at ease; they began to feel capable of resuming negotiations, when the time arrived, like two normal sensible beings. James threw himself on a couch; Beatrice moved about the room, opening a window here, turning up a light there, arranging a vase of flowers somewhere else. At last, deeming the time ripe, she stopped in one of her noiseless trips and spoke down at her husband.
"James, do you realize that you alone, of all the people on the yacht, had the remotest suspicion? You remember how they all joked about it?"
Oh, the danger of putting things into words! Beatrice's voice was as gentle as she could make it; there was even a note of casual amusement in it, but in some intangible way, merely by reopening the subject vocally, Beatrice laid herself open to attack. James' lip curled; he could no more keep it from doing so than keep his hair from curling.
"You must remember, however, that they were not fully acquainted with the circumstances...."