“But he is a good manager. He’s so enthusiastic about you.”
He shrugged indifferently. “I suppose so.”
“And do you really find it easier to practice here than in New York?”
“Oh, yes. It is so divinely quiet. And then the air is so good. I walk two hours a day, as the doctor told me to do. It would have been an awful bore to have had to go South. You couldn’t have come with me and I should have gone mad. As it is—I am in heaven!”
Anne paled. His fervor always frightened her. How could such happiness last?
“But I can only come occasionally, you know, dear. It is difficult for me to get away. I have to make excuses,” she faltered. “Excuses, even to Regina. I feel sure she suspects something. Subterfuge is horrible. I loathe it.”
Head drooping upon its slender stem, she looked like a chidden child. A spasm of fear swept over his face. Anne was suffering. Was it all too much for her? God, if he were only free to marry! Hatred for Claire gripped his vitals like a vise. He rose and stood over her trembling.
“Anne, you will not give me up? It would kill me!”
The stiletto anguish of his cry tore her soul.
“No, no, my poor Alexis.” She stood up and laid her hands on his shaking shoulders. “Come, you are over-excited. Let’s go into the other room. I want you to play for me. But only a little, for I know you are tired.”