“It’s not,” agreed Miss Marley, dryly, “particularly easy to know.”
“And his wife doesn’t care for him,” Claire went on. “Fancy Winn’s wife not caring for him! Poor woman!”
“Why do you pity her?” Miss Marley inquired with interest.
“Well,” said Claire, with a sudden dimple, “I was only thinking I shouldn’t like to be Winn’s wife if he didn’t care for me; and then I was thinking that if he didn’t, I’d make him!”
“Well, that effort doesn’t seem required of you,” said Miss Marley.
“No, but it only shows you that I’m much the most wicked, doesn’t it?” asked Claire, with some pride.
“The points against Winn,” Miss Marley said gravely, “are his age, his experience, and his wife. I feel bound to tell you that there are points against him.”
Claire frowned.
“Winn isn’t really old,” she explained, “because he’s only done things all his life – games or his work; it hasn’t been people. People make you old, especially when you are looking after them. He’s never really grown up; and as for experience, I don’t think you experience anything unless you care about it. It hurts me sometimes to hear him talk about his wife. He’s never had her; he’s only had me. I don’t explain very well, but I know it’s true, because he told me things about loving which showed me he’d never had anything before except dogs – and Peter; and Peter’s awfully young, and dogs can’t answer back. You can’t grow up on dogs.”
Miss Marley tacitly admitted the limitations of canine influence; but she said:
“Still, you know, he’s not kept to his own code; that’s what one must judge people by. I’m sure he’d tell you himself that a married man should leave girls alone.”
Claire thought for a moment, then she said:
“Yes, but he’s gone deeper than his code now. Don’t you think that perhaps a smash, even of something you value, makes you grow? I don’t know how to put it quite, but if you never did what you thought wrong, would you ever know how big right is? Besides, he hasn’t gone on doing it. Perhaps he did start wrong in getting to care, but that only makes it harder and finer, his stopping himself. Very few people, I think, but Winn could stop themselves, and nobody but Winn could ever care – so much.” Her voice broke, and she turned away her head.
“What,” said Miss Marley, rolling another cigarette, “are your plans?”
Miss Marley felt that she must give up first principles but she hoped that she might still be able to do something about plans.
“We are going to drive over the Maloja to Chiavenna,” said Claire; “Maurice has a party to go with. We shall start by the earlier post, and have lunch together at Vico-Soprano before he comes. And then when Maurice comes we shall say good-by; and then – and then, Miss Marley, I’ve been thinking – we mustn’t meet again! I haven’t told Winn yet, because he likes to talk as if we could, in places awfully far away and odd, with you to chaperon us. I think it helps him to talk like that but I don’t think now that we must ever meet again. You won’t blame him if I tell you something, will you?”
“No,” said Miss Marley; “after what you’ve said to me to-night I am not inclined to blame him.”
“Well,” said Claire, “I don’t think, if we were to meet again, he would let me go. We may manage this time, but not twice.”
“Are you sure,” asked Miss Marley, gently, “that you will manage this time?”
Claire raised her head and looked at Miss Marley.
“Aren’t you?” she said gravely. “I did feel very sure.”
“I’d feel a great deal surer,” said Miss Marley, “if you didn’t drive down the pass. If you once set off with Winn, do you suppose he’ll stop? I am sure he means to now; in fact, his sending you up here to talk to me proves it. He knows I sha’n’t be much of a help to him in carrying you off. But, my dear, I never knew any Staines stop, once he’d started. As long as he is looking at the consequences for you, he’ll steer clear of them, he’s looking at them now, but a moment will come when he’ll cease to look, and then everything will depend on you. I think your one chance is to say good-by here, and to drive down the pass with Maurice. He can dispose of his party for once.”
The color left Claire’s face, but her eyes never flinched from Miss Marley’s. After a time Miss Marley turned her head away; she could no longer bear the look in Claire’s eyes. It was like watching the face of some one drowning.
“I don’t want a chance!” whispered Claire.
Miss Marley found her voice difficult to control, but she did control it; she said:
“I was thinking of his chance. If he does you any harm, he won’t forgive himself. You can stop it; he can’t possibly stop himself.”
“No,” said Claire. She didn’t cry; she sat very straight and still on her footstool in front of the fire. After a while she said in a curious dragging voice: “Very well, then; I must tell him about the pass. Oh, what shall I do if he minds! It’s his minding – ” She stopped, as if the words broke something in her.
“Yes,” said Miss Marley; “but he’ll mind more if he ruins your life. You see, you won’t think you’re ruined, but Winn will think so. He’ll believe he’s ruined the woman he loves, and after a little time, when his passion has ceased to ride him blind, he’ll never hold up his head again. You’ll be responsible for that.” It sounded cruel, but it was not cruel. Miss Marley knew that as long as she laid the responsibility at Claire’s door, Claire would not think her cruel.
Claire repeated slowly after her:
“I should be responsible for that!” Then she said: “Oh, how silly laws are! How silly! As if any one could be ruined who simply loved!”
“We should probably be sillier without laws,” Miss Marley observed. “And you must remember they have their recommendations: they keep silly people comparatively safe.”
“Safe!” said Claire. “I think that’s the emptiest, poorest word there is! Who wants to be safe?”
“You wouldn’t think so if you had a child,” said Miss Marley, quietly. “You would need safety then, and you would learn to prize it.”
Claire bowed her head into her hands.
“Oh, why can’t I have one now! Why can’t I?” she whispered brokenly.
Miss Marley bit her lips; she had hoped Claire was too young for this particular stab.
“Because he’d think it wrong,” said Miss Marley after a pause, “and because of Peter. He’s got that obligation. The two would clash.”
Claire rose slowly to her feet.
“I’ll just go and tell him about the pass,” she said quietly. “When it’s over I’ll begin to think; but I needn’t really think till then, need I? Because I feel as if I couldn’t just now; it would stop my going on.”
Miss Marley said that she was quite sure that Claire need not begin to think at present and privately she hoped that, when that hour came, something might happen which would deaden thought. She was thankful to remember that the worst of feeling is always over before the worst of thinking can begin. But Claire was too young to comfort herself with the limitations of pain. She only knew that she must tell Winn about the pass and seem for a moment at least, in his eyes, not to trust him. Nevertheless, she smiled at Miss Marley before she left her, because she didn’t want Miss Marley to feel upset; and Miss Marley accepted this reassurance with an answering smile until the door was shut.
CHAPTER XXVI
When Claire found Winn at the bridge-table she saw at a glance that he was not in the mood for renunciations. His eyes had the hard, shining stare that was the danger-signal of the Staines family. He shot a glance at Claire as if she were a hostile force and he was taking her measure. He was putting her outside himself in order to fight her. It was as if he knew instinctively that their wills were about to clash. When the rubber was over, he got up and walked straight to her.