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Page 106
Aline had suspected as much at luncheon; and looking back she
realized that it was at luncheon her depression had begun. The
discovery startled her a little. She had not been aware, or she
had refused to admit to herself, that George's troubles bulked so
large on her horizon. She had always told herself that she liked
George, that George was a dear old friend, that George amused and
stimulated her; but she would have denied she was so wrapped up
in George that the sight of him in trouble would be enough to
spoil for her the finest day she had seen since she left America.
There was something not only startling but shocking in the
thought; for she was honest enough with herself to recognize that
Freddie, her official loved one, might have paced the grounds of
the castle chewing an unlighted cigar by the hour without
stirring any emotion in her at all.
And she was to marry Freddie next month! This was surely a matter
that called for thought. She proceeded, gazing down the while at
the perambulating George, to give it thought.
Aline's was not a deep nature. She had never pretended to herself
that she loved the Honorable Freddie in the sense in which the
word is used in books. She liked him and she liked the idea of
being connected with the peerage; her father liked the idea and
she liked her father. And the combination of these likings had
caused her to reply "Yes" when, last Autumn, Freddie, swelling
himself out like an embarrassed frog and gulping, had uttered
that memorable speech beginning, "I say, you know, it's like
this, don't you know!"--and ending, "What I mean is, will you
marry me--what?"
She had looked forward to being placidly happy as the Honorable
Mrs. Frederick Threepwood. And then George Emerson had reappeared
in her life, a disturbing element.
Until to-day she would have resented the suggestion that she was
in love with George. She liked to be with him, partly because he
was so easy to talk to, and partly because it was exciting to be
continually resisting the will power he made no secret of trying
to exercise. But to-day there was a difference. She had suspected
it at luncheon and she realized it now. As she looked down at him
from behind the curtain, and marked his air of gloom, she could
no longer disguise it from herself.
She felt maternal--horribly maternal. George was in trouble and
she wanted to comfort him.
Freddie, too, was in trouble. But did she want to comfort
Freddie? No. On the contrary, she was already regretting her
promise, so lightly given before luncheon, to go and sit with him
that afternoon. A well-marked feeling of annoyance that he should
have been so silly as to tumble downstairs and sprain his ankle
was her chief sentiment respecting Freddie.
George Emerson continued to perambulate and Aline continued to
watch him. At last she could endure it no longer. She gathered up
her letters, stacked them in a corner of the dressing-table and
left the room. George had reached the end of the terrace and
turned when she began to descend the stone steps outside the
front door. He quickened his pace as he caught sight of her. He
halted before her and surveyed her morosely.
"I have been looking for you," he said.
"And here I am. Cheer up, George! Whatever is the matter? I've
been sitting in my room looking at you, and you have been simply
prowling. What has gone wrong?"
"Everything!"
"How do you mean--everything?"
"Exactly what I say. I'm done for. Read this."
Aline took the yellow slip of paper. "A cable," added George. "I
got it this morning--mailed on from my rooms in London. Read it."
"I'm trying to. It doesn't seem to make sense."
George laughed grimly.
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