The Letter of the Contract

xpecting it. The fear of it used to dog him whenever he went to the theater or the opera or out to dine. There had been minutes in Fifth Avenue, or Bond Street, or the Rue

phrases he had prepared-for the purpose of carrying off such a meeting as this,

d never so much as caught a glimpse of her. In the earlier months that had been a relief. He couldn't have seen her and kept his self-control. He cou

or lunching in a restaurant, or buying something in a shop. There were whole seasons when he knew she was in New York from autum

speak to her. He wouldn't have known what to say, or by what name to call her. Such an encounter would have annoyed her and made him grotesque. It was more

cked up so many things, piecing odds and ends of their speeches together. He saw them so rarely now that he attached the greater value to the hints they threw out. He never questioned them about her, but it was natural that they should take a wi

same boat. He could never go on deck or into the saloon without having to pass her. Worse still, she could never go outside her cabin door without the risk of being oblige

alone, without so much as the companionship of a maid. He, too, was alone; but, fortunately, his name was inconspicuous: Mr. C. Walker. It was just the sort of name to be overlooked. She might read the list half a dozen tim

ing steamer. There was every likelihood that she hadn't seen him any more than he had seen her. If he kept himself hidden she might never know! He could avoid the decks by day and take his exercise by night. By night, too, he could creep into the smoking-room and get a little change. But he would sta

was glad to remember that W was so far from L. Nevertheless, he allowed his eye to roam toward section L, but found no one there whom he recognized. He ran over in his mi

in that was to take them to London. He couldn't see that she was anywhere amo

d. He had supposed that emotion dead. Probably it was dead. It must be dead. It was merely that, owing to the constraint of the voyage, his nerves were unstrung, inducing the frame of mind in which people see ghosts. Yes, that was it; he had been seeing ghosts. It was not a living thing, this renewed yearning for a sight of her. It was only the reflex of something past. It could be explained psychologically. It was the sort of evanescent sentiment inspir

in the corridor, looking out at the vaporous English landscape. Through the mists overlying the flat fields and distant parks trees loomed weirdly, the elms and beeches in full leaf

ed hand; but it might have been any hand. She wore a long brown coat, rather shapeless, reaching to the hem of her dress, while a large hat, about which a green vei

r face-not much more than the forehead and the eyes. But the eyes seemed to come alive as he looked down into them, like sapphires under slowly

f incredulous gazing before she said an

laining his presence. "I was

was on i

ed, "after we sailed. Not befor

re weren't many passenger

er voice, in the shifting of her color, and in the

was so natural to be with her, so righ

bout very much

y. "I understand. It was ki

saw that she wanted to recognize that fact from the first. She wanted to put that boy and his m

rriedly on business. A

in the overhead racks, and her books and illustrated papers lay on

ly, to show tha

mething. "I'm to meet him in Paris. I wasn't coming over at a

t. "How were the chi

n having the same old trouble with his

ength, poor little chap. I notice," he added, gazing at her more intently th

st time. "Oh, but I th

ter me. He's a Wa

But he's not strong. Ever si

been worse. We might have lost h

f it. "Oh, that awful night! And you were more afraid than

Gad, he was plucky, the poor little ch

nd five

the years fly! By the way, won't it soon be

obliged to step back into her compartment. Having taken the seat in the corner by the window, she motioned with her hand toward that in the opposit

nd then at the open country. The children, with their needs, their ailments, their future careers, could not but be the natural theme bet

y-under

r eyes shot him one piteous, appealing glance, after which they returned to the pass

for gran

e experience. It seemed to them quite the ordinary thing

t risked anot

k that Tom's discove

e he's

? Do you min

her not

f I in

he risk of having y

a wry smile expressed his indifference to

thout turning

as? It would help me in my f

fields, from which the mists had risen. "

ou tol

t understand-that perhap

ou did understand, you know-perfectly. You

e got on our consciences. There's

to pass before saying

heep trotting clumsily up a hillside

not unhappy." A pause gave emphasis to his question

enty rooks alighting on an elm engaged her attenti

unhappy with

ne forfeits

need s

hurriedly: "N

d

ar them. Perhaps she meant at first to make use of this privile

I've had to pay, but chi

, with delicate curves of nose and lips and chin-the profile to go with dimpling smiles and a suffused sweetness. It pained him to notice that, though the suffus

understand that sort of sympathy better now than I did some years ago.

rtain things were to do ag

ignity. "That's somethi

think a

uldn't discuss

d discuss it. Between us the conversatio

ime since entering the compartment. "Is

every

't see

een man

em to me so far apart as those who've bee

ay, no two are s

approach her, but in leaning across the upholstered arm of his

making of new ones is only superficial. It hasn't put you and me asunder-not the you and me," he hurried on, as something in her expression and attitude seemed to indicate dissent, "not the you and me that are really essential. No court and no judge could dissolv

speech carry you too far? In our case the judge and the cour

ied that, have I? But in every true marriage there's something over and above the letter of the contract-t

the present he had been comparing to forget-me-nots, as he use

hy

e I ask

marriage can be true, till other people-no, let me go on!-till other people-your Aunt Emily most of all-advised you to exact your pound of fles

s up now? You're married to some one else, and so am I. We

to know that we'd

en't s

ru

this way, without speaking, was like an obliteration of the last seven years, reducing them to a

e shall be in Lond

s part against them. Even if she were willing to rebel he couldn't do it-with a wife and boy in New York. He had married again on purpose to satisfy his longing for a child-a family. He felt very tenderly toward them, the little chap and his mother; but he was clear as to the fact that he felt tenderly toward them, pityingly tender, largely because when face to face with Edith he wished to God that they had never been part of his life.

lief to his feelings than to take down

wn traps," he explained, "and come ba

to ridicule her pretensions. "You must have changed a great deal if you can do t

anged a gr

t see that you've chang

rellas from the network above, to say further: "Perhaps-since we've met in this unexpected way-and talked-possibly a little too frankly-it may be well if I remind you that you'd still be confronted with that fact-that I'm another woman-even if our bri

, he could hear a catch in her voice that almost amounted to a sob. Because there was something i

ing I recognize. Di

bag awkwardly before h

edding present

y more-now." "Do you mean that you'l

: "It's my dressing-ca

break a bott

one of casual reminiscen

time we raised a row about it when we landed in New Y

ugh she knew the smile was gh

of my rememb

se; but the trivial, intimate details wrung a cry fro

his hands, as she cowered in the corner, pulling down her veil. "'No

ssed her clasped hands against her

that, Edith?"

lves out in spite of her efforts to repress them: "I'm-I'm staying at t

cadilly. I shall come

down. Amid the noise and bustle of finding her luggage and having it put on a taxi-cab, there was no opportunity for her to speak. He took care, besides, that ther

, about t

t eleven because if it's fine we might r

pen air, would be less dangerous than one in London. And perhaps in the end she m

Skindle's isn'

r been at

on the river-the Clieveden w

seen the Cli

d. At eleven. All r

Oh, Chip, don't come! I'm afraid. What's

idges, there are wings. At eleven, then.