If she had never
left, if he had not tasted the horrors of this new loneliness, he
might have been able to struggle on. He missed her, missed her
diabolically. The other things, marvelous though they were, had
been more or less like a mirage. This world of new emotions had
spread like a silken mesh over all his thoughts, over all his
desires. Beatrice had been a tangible person, restful,
delightful, a real companion, his one resource against this
madness. And now she was gone, and he was powerless to get her
back. He turned his head, he looked up the road along which he
had torn that night with his arms around her. She owed him her
life and she had gone! With all a man's inconsequence, it seemed
to him as he rose heavily to his feet and started homeward, that
she had repaid him with a certain amount of ingratitude, that she
had left him at the one moment in his life when he needed her
most.
CHAPTER XVI
AN OFFER OF MARRIAGE
The next afternoon, at half-past four, Tavernake was having tea
with Beatrice in the tiny flat which she was sharing with another
girl, off Kingsway. She opened the door to him herself, and
though she chattered ceaselessly, it seemed to him that she was
by no means at her ease. She installed him in the only available
chair, an absurd little wicker thing many sizes too small for
him, and seated herself upon the hearth-rug a few feet away.
"You have soon managed to find me out, Leonard," she remarked.
Pages:
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175