Was he often with Launa? Jealousy, a raging, burning hatred of the woman who was liked so much, filled her mind, and she stamped her foot with rage. Then she wanted to cry. To feel herself powerless, to know herself mistaken, both were new emotions, both were uncomfortably true and horrible.
Marriage, she reflected, was always a failure; to keep one’s husband as a lover is impossible. At this moment Mr. Herbert came in.
“You!” she exclaimed, with mixed feelings of pleasure and surprise.
“How do you do?” she said. She always remembered the observances of polite society. “I am alone. Look behind the curtain or under the sofa if you think I have a man hidden anywhere.”
She resisted an impulse which said, “Speak, say you love him.” He looked in one of his critical moods, so she summoned all her energies to her aid and crushed away any feeling she possessed.
“I am very well,” he answered. He looked tired. “I am going to Cairo to-night to do some writing for the _Signal_.”
“You will stay here,” he answered, with cheerful unconcern. “You have all you want.”
“All—Jack! don’t go. They say—I will even live in a house with stairs.”
“Yes, I do want you to stay with me, or I will go with you.”
“This is only a mood—to show your own power. When I come back, in six months, then we shall see.”
“Six months? And I am to wait. No, thank you. You will have lost me for ever then. Oh! you are cruel.”
“You are mistaken; I am not cruel. We have tried our experiment, and it has failed for me—for you, perhaps it is what you wanted. It will be all the better for you if I am not here. They—the all-powerful—will say less about you, if you are decently careful. Have you seen anything of Launa? Perhaps you will be good to her.”
“My friend. You cannot understand that. I—”
“I—I am different. Why should I console her for your departure? Is she broken-hearted?”
“No,” he replied. “Why will you misunderstand me?”
“Isn’t it enough for her to have Mr. Wainbridge, and to stay at hotels with him alone.”
“Take care what you say, and what you insinuate. Launa is perfectly innocent, she never stayed at an hotel—that is, lived with Mr. Wainbridge as you suggest. Someone may have seen them dining together. You dine with men sometimes. But I must go now.”