Chapter 8
She ignored the last question. Her eyes were indignant as she answered: "It may sound as if I am very young, but it also sounds as if you are very rude and inquisitive."
His dark face flushed.
"I beg your pardon. I hadn't the least intention of being either rude or inquisitive," he said hastily. "I should like to be friends with you. As a rule, I've no use for women any more than..." He stopped abruptly, biting his lip, but Marie knew that he had been going to add, "Any more than Chris has."
There was a little silence.
"Have you got any brothers?" he asked abruptly. "No, of course, I know you haven't. Well, why not look upon me as a sort of big brother?" His eyes were upon her again; kind eyes they were beneath their s.h.a.ggy brows.
Marie gave a forced little laugh.
"Thank you; I don't want a brother."
"Not now, of course," he agreed. "But we never know what we may want in this queer old world, and brothers can be very useful things at times, you know."
She did not answer. She thought he was the strangest man she had ever met.
"We ought to be turning back," he said presently, "It's nearly nine o'clock, and we're some way from the hotel."
She walked reluctantly beside him.
Suddenly she asked a question.
"If you are Chris' best friend, why weren't you his best man at--at our wedding?"
She looked up at him as she spoke, and saw the quick frown that crossed his face.
"Am I to answer that question?" he asked.
"Of course. I should like to know."
"Very well, then, as you insist--Chris asked me to be best man, or whatever you call it, and I refused."
"Why?" She was really interested now.
"Why? Well, because--before I saw you--I disliked the idea of Chris being married. Marriage spoils most friends.h.i.+ps between men."
Marie looked out over the sea with wistful eyes.
"I don't think marriage will spoil Chris'
"No," he agreed, "I am afraid it will not."
There was a queer, hard note of disapproval in his voice, and Marie looked at him in bewilderment.
"I don't think I understand you," she said angrily. "I don't think I understand a bit what you mean."
"Perhaps I don't understand myself." he answered. "Let's leave it at that, shall we, and forget all the nonsense I've been talking?"
They went up to the hotel silently. There were several people about now and a smartly-dressed woman with red hair, to whom Feathers bowed formally, stared at Marie rather insolently as they pa.s.sed.
"Is that one of Chris' friends?" Marie asked with an effort when they were out of hearing.
"Chris knows her," was the reply. "She is a Mrs. Heriot."
"She is very smart," Marie said wistfully.
"Smart!" Feathers stopped and looked back at the woman deliberately. "Do you call her smart?" he asked, mildly amazed. "I think she looks a sight; but, then, so do most of the women in this hotel. I suppose it's their way of attracting attention--all others failing."
Marie smiled faintly.
"You don't like women," she said.
He shook his s.h.a.ggy head.
"I do not," he agreed.
"And yet--just now, you told me I should be wise to make a friend of you."
"I did--and I still mean it, and hope some day that you will do so... Here is Chris."
Chris came towards them with a batch of newspapers in his hands. He looked at his wife with faint embarra.s.sment.
"Early birds!" he said, and then, as Feathers moved away. "Is your head better, Marie Celeste?"
She smiled nervously.
"Oh, yes, it's quite gone! I got up early and had a long walk along the sands, and I met Mr. Dakers and he came back with me."
"Call him 'Feathers,'" said Chris. "Everybody does."
"Do they? But I hardly know him!"
"You soon will." He looked at her doubtfully. "Do you think you will manage to have a good time here, Marie?"
"Oh, yes, with... " "With you," she had been going to add, but stopped. She felt instinctively that she would not be allowed to have much of her husband's undivided attention. There were so many people in the hotel who were friends of his.
"There is a Mrs. Heriot here who knows you," she said, more for something to say than for any other reason, and she was surprised at the way Chris suddenly flushed.
"Yes, I know," he said. "I saw her last night."
They went in to breakfast together. Marie thought she had never seen such a big room. She kept close to Chris, conscious that all eyes were upon her.
Feathers and young Atkins occupied a table a little way from theirs, and Atkins got up as soon as he saw Marie, and came over to ask how she was.
"I'm quite well, thank you, and isn't it a lovely morning?"
"Ripping! I say, can you swim?"