Away out, heading homewards, Martin's yawl, with Irene lying full stretch on the roof of the cabin, and Howard whistling for a wind, crept through the water, inch by inch.
With the tiller under one arm and a pipe in his mouth, long empty, sat Martin, thinking about Joan.Hearing voices, Tootles looked up from a book that she was trying to read.She had been lying in the hammock on the stoop of Martin's cottage for an hour, waiting for Martin.It had taken her a long time to do her hair and immense pains to satisfy herself that she looked nice,--for Martin.Her plan was cut and dried in her mind, and she had been killing time with all the impatience and throbbing of nerves of one who had brought herself up to a crisis which meant either success and joy, or failure and a drab world.She couldn't bear to go through another day without bringing about a decision.She felt that she had to jog Fate's elbow, whatever was to be the insult.She had discovered from a casual remark of Howard's that Martin, those hot nights, had taken to sleeping on the boat.Her plan, deliberately conceived as a follow-up to what had happened out under the stars the night before, was to swim out to it and wait for him in the cabin.She knew, no one so well, that it was in the nature of a forlorn hope, but she was desperate.She loved him intransitively, to the utter extinction of the little light of modesty which her hand-to-mouth existence had left burning.She wanted love or death, and she was going to put up this last fight for love with all the unscrupulousness of a lovesick woman.
She saw two people coming towards the cottage, a tall, fair, sun-tanned youth, hatless and frank-eyed like Martin, and--She got up.A cold hand seemed suddenly to have been placed on her heart.Joan,--it was Joan, the girl who, once before, at Martin's house, had sent the earth spinning from under her feet and put Martin suddenly behind barbed wire.What hideous trick was this of Fate's? Why was this moment the one chosen for the appearance of this girl,--his wife? This moment,--her moment?
Fight? With tooth and nail, with all the cunning and ingenuity of a member of the female species to protect what she regarded as her own.She and her plan against the world,--that was what it was.
Thank God, Martin was not in sight.She had a free hand.
She had not been seen.A thick honeysuckle growing up the pillar had hidden her.She slipped into the house quickly, her heart beating in her throat."I'll try Lliis," said Harry."Wait here." He left Joan within a few feet of the stoop, went up the two steps, and not finding a bell, knocked on the screen door.In less than an instant he saw the girl with bobbed hair come forward."I'm sorry to trouble you," he said, with a little bow, "I thought Mr.Gray might live here," and turned to go.Obviously it was the wrong house.
Very clearly and distinctly Tootles spoke."Mr.Gray does live here.
I'm Mrs.Gray.Will you leave a message?"Harry wheeled round.He felt that the bullet which had gone through his back had lodged in Joan's heart.He opened his mouth to speak but no word came.And Tootles spoke again, even more clearly and distinctly.She intended that her voice should travel.
"My husband won't be back for several days," she said, "but I shall be very glad to tell him that you called if you will leave your name.""It--it doesn't matter," said Harry, stammering.After an irresolute, unhappy pause, he turned to go--He went straight to Joan.She was standing with her eyes shut and both hands on her heart, as white as a white rose.She looked like a young slim tree that had been struck by lightning.
"Joan," he said, "Joan," and touched her arm.There was no answer.
"Joan," he said, "Joany."
And with a little sob she tottered forward.
He caught her, blazing with anger that she had been so hurt, inarticulate with indignation and a huge sympathy, and with the one strong desire to get her away from that place, picked her up in his arms,--a dead delicious weight,--and carried her down the incline of sand and undergrowth to his car, put her in ever so gently, got in himself, backed the machine out, turned it and drove away.
And Tootles, breathing hard and shaking, stood on the edge of the stoop, and with tears streaming down her face, watched the car become a speck and disappear.
