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Page 78

"Is it really as bad as that?" she asked. "Have I made such a
mess of things that some one, either you or Peter, must marry me
to straighten things out? I don't want to marry any one. Do I
have to?"

"Certainly you don't have to," said Peter. There was relief in
his voice, relief and also something of exultation. "McLean, you
mean well, but marriage isn't the solution. We were getting along
all right until our friends stepped in. Let Mrs. Boyer howl all
over the colony; there will be one sensible woman somewhere to
come and be comfortable here with us. In the interval we'll
manage, unless Harmony is afraid. In that case--"

"Afraid of what?"

The two men exchanged glances, McLean helpless, Peter triumphant.

"I do not care what Mrs. Boyer says, at least not much. And I am
not afraid of anything else at all."

McLean picked up his overcoat.

"At least," he appealed to Peter, "you'll come over to my place?"

"No!" said Peter.

McLean made a final appeal to Harmony.

"If this gets out," he said, "you are going to regret it all your
life."

"I shall have nothing to regret," she retorted proudly.

Had Peter not been there McLean would have made a better case,
would have pleaded with her, would have made less of a situation
that roused her resentment and more of his love for her. He was
very hard hit, very young. He was almost hysterical with rage and
helplessness; he wanted to slap her, to take her in his arms. He
writhed under the restraint of Peter's steady eyes.

He got to the door and turned, furious.

"Then it's up to you," he flung at Peter. "You're old enough to
know better; she isn't. And don't look so damned superior. You're
human, like the rest of us. And if any harm comes to her--"

Here unexpectedly Peter held out his hand, and after a sheepish
moment McLean took it.

"Good-night, old man," said Peter. "And--don't be an ass."

As was Peter's way, the words meant little, the tone much. McLean
knew what in his heart he had known all along--that the girl was
safe enough; that all that was to fear was the gossip of
scandal-lovers. He took Peter's hand, and then going to Harmony
stood before her very erect.

"I suppose I've said too much; I always do," he said contritely.
"But you know the reason. Don't forget the reason, will you?"

"I am only sorry."

He bent over and kissed her hand lingeringly. It was a tragic
moment for him, poor lad! He turned and went blindly out the door
and down the dark stone staircase. It was rather anticlimax,
after all that, to have Peter discover he had gone without his
hat and toss it down to him a flight below.

All the frankness had gone out of the relationship between
Harmony and Peter. They made painful efforts at ease, talked
during the meal of careful abstractions, such as Jimmy, and
Peter's proposed trip to Semmering, avoided each other's eyes,
ate little or nothing. Once when Harmony passed Peter his
coffee-cup their fingers touched, and between them they dropped
the cup. Harmony was flushed and pallid by turns, Peter wretched
and silent.

Out of the darkness came one ray of light. Stewart had wired from
Semmering, urging Peter to come. He would be away for two days.
In two days much might happen; Dr. Jennings might come or some
one else. In two days some of the restraint would have worn off.
Things would never be the same, but they would be forty-eight
hours better.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 26th Dec 2025, 6:34

The Street of Seven Stars by Mary Roberts Rinehart