I
should like to do what Wingrave has done--go away somewhere and rest."
Barrington laid his hand upon hers affectionately. It seemed to him
that the rings hung a little loosely upon the thin, white fingers. She
was pale, too, and her eyes were weary. He did not notice that, as
soon as she could, she drew her hand away.
"Pon my word," he said, "I wish we could go off somewhere by
ourselves. But with Wingrave's yacht to entertain on, we must do
something for a few of the people. I don't suppose he minds whom we
ask, or how many."
"No!" she answered, "I do not suppose he cares."
"It is most opportune," Barrington declared. "I wanted particularly to
do something for the Hendersons. He seems very well disposed, and his
influence means everything just now. Really, Ruth, I believe we are
going to pull through after all."
She smiled a little wearily.
"Do you think so, Lumley?"
"I am sure of it, Ruth," he answered. "I only wish I could see you a
little more cheerful. Surely you can't still--be afraid of Wingrave,"
he added, glancing uneasily across the table.
She looked him in the eyes.
"That is exactly what I am," she answered. "I am afraid of him. I have
always been afraid. Nothing has happened to change him. He came back
to have his revenge. He will have it."
Lumley Barrington, for once, felt himself superior to his clever wife.
He smiled upon her reassuringly.
"My dear Ruth," he said, "if only you would reflect for a few moments,
I feel sure you would realize the absurdity of such fancies.
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