Westenra had not worn that look when they commenced the journey; it was within the last half-hour while they talked of Val that Haidee had watched it creeping like a shadow into his eyes, making harsh lines about his mouth.
"You should have gone to the Lamartine studios and made inquiries," she said suddenly. "Then you 'd have known all about it--far more than I wrote and told you!"
"I have no right to make inquiries about Val, Haidee. She is not my wife and I have no claim whatever over----"
"No. Has she never told you? Her husband whom she thought dead came back. You must never speak of this to any one."
"Very funny," he said grimly. "That is, of course, who was staying with her at the studios, with a perfect right to do so. Only"--his face took a harder expression--"she can't go on having Bran too."
"But why not, Garry? She hasn't got the man--her husband--staying at Cannes with her. She 's told me heaps of times she and Bran are there alone. Rupert wrote and told me too."
"That is understood," said Westenra coldly. "Or I should n't let you go to her, even for a few days."
"To a hotel, of course. I 've arranged for a room at the Metropole."
"And afterwards, Garry--when you have got Bran?"
"God knows, Haidee." He did not speak like a man who has won fame and renown and almost all he set out to get--except one small thing! But rather as one whose golden gifts have turned to ashes in the mouth, whose laurels have fallen to dust. Inspiration shot into Haidee's eyes.
"Then you haven't got a wife at all, Garry?"
"Then I don't see why I can't marry you at last. I 've always wanted to."
"There's nothing to laugh at. Lots of girls marry their guardians. Oh, _do_ let me marry you, Garry. I do love you so."
"Why not? Why _not_? How can I come back to America with you and Bran unless I _am_ married to you? It would not be at all correct." (Haidee had not been brought up in conventional France for nothing!) Westenra grinned sardonically.
"And if you get Bran away from Val, he will need a mother, and you surely would n't marry some old strange pig of a woman to mind him. He 's a gentle little kid and he _must_ be mothered. I believe he 'd just die if he did n't have love and kindness round him all the time."