Chapter 93
He really did wonder.
"It's a quarter past seven, Steven."
He rose and stretched himself. They went together to the night nursery where the three children lay in their cots, the little red-haired girls awake and restless, and the dark-haired baby in his first sleep.
They bent over them together. Mary's lips touched the red hair and the dark where Steven's lips had been.
They spent the evening sitting by the fire in Rowcliffe's study. The doctor dozed. Mary, silent over her sewing, was the perfect image of tranquillity. From time to time she looked at her husband and smiled as his chin dropped to his breast and recovered itself with a start.
At the stroke of ten she murmured, "Steven, are you ready for bed?"
He rose, stumbling for drowsiness.
As they pa.s.sed into the square hall he paused and looked round him before putting out the lights.
"Yes" (he yawned). "Ye-hes. I think we shall do very comfortably here for the next seven years."
He was thinking of old Hyslop. He had given him seven years.
LXIV
The next day (it was a Friday), when Mary came home to tea after a round of ineffectual calling she was told that Miss Gwenda was in the drawing-room.
Mary inquired whether the doctor was in.
Dr. Rowcliffe was in but he was engaged in the surgery.
Mary thought she knew why Gwenda had come to-day.
For the last two or three Wednesdays Rowcliffe had left Garthdale without calling at the Vicarage.
He had not meant to break his habit, but it happened so. For, this year, Mary had decided to have a day, from May to October. And her day was Wednesday.
Her
She had every reason. Mary believed in keeping up appearances, and the appearance she most desired to keep up was that of behaving beautifully to her sister. This required her sister's co-operation. It couldn't appear if Gwenda didn't. And Gwenda hadn't given it a chance.
She meant to have it out with her.
She greeted her therefore with a certain challenge.
"What are you keeping away for? Do you suppose we aren't glad to see you?"
"I'm not keeping away," said Gwenda.
"It looks uncommonly like it. Do you know it's two months since you've been here?"
"Is it? I've lost count."
"I should think you did lose count!"
"I'm sorry, Molly. I couldn't come."
"You talk as if you had engagements every day in Garthdale."
"If it comes to that, it's months since you've been to us."
"It's different for me. I _have_ engagements. And I've my husband and children too. Steven hates it if I'm out when he comes home."
"And Papa hates it if _I'm_ out."
"It's no use minding what Papa hates. What's making you so sensitive?"
"Living with him."
"Then for goodness sake get away from him when you can. One afternoon here can't matter to him."
Gwenda said nothing, neither did she look at her. But she answered her in her heart. "It matters to _me_. It matters to _me_. How stupid you are if you don't see how it matters. Yet I'd die rather than you should see."
Mary went on, exasperated by her sister's silence.
"We may as well have it out while we're about it. Why can't you look me straight in the face and say plump out what I've done?"
"You've done nothing."
"Well, is it Steven, then? Has he done anything?"
"Of course he hasn't. What _could_ he do?"
"Poor Steven, goodness knows! I'm sure I don't. No more does he.
Unless----"
She stopped. Her sister was looking her straight in the face now.
"Unless what?"
"My dear Gwenda, don't glare at me like that. I'm not saying things and I'm not thinking them. I don't know what _you're_ thinking. If you weren't so nervy you'd own that I've always been decent to you. I'm sure I _have_ been. I've always stood up for you. I've always wanted to have you here----"
"And why shouldn't you?"
Mary blinked. She had seen her blunder.
"I never said you weren't decent to me, Molly."
"You behave as if I weren't."