“I didn’t—I never meant—it wasn’t to ask for money….”
“Yet you agreed that the only hope if we are to educate the children properly is for your aunt to come to the rescue.”
Bella Tanios did not answer. She moved uneasily.
But her face bore the mild mulish look that many clever husbands of stupid wives know to their cost.
She said:
“Perhaps Aunt Emily herself may suggest—”
“It is possible, but I’ve seen no signs of it so far.”
Bella said:
“If we could have brought the children with us. Aunt Emily couldn’t have helped loving Mary. And Edward is so intelligent.”
Tanios said, drily:
“I don’t think your aunt is a great child lover. It is probably just as well the children aren’t here.”
“Oh, Jacob, but—”
“Yes, yes, my dear. I know your feelings. But these desiccated English spinsters—bah, they are not human. We want to do the best we can, do we not, for our Mary and our Edward? To help us a little would involve no hardship to Miss Arundell.”
Mrs. Tanios turned, there was a flush in her cheeks.
“Oh, please, please, Jacob, not this time. I’m sure it would be unwise. I would so very very much rather not.”
Tanios stood close behind her, his arm encircled her shoulders. She trembled a little and then was still—almost rigid.
He said and his voice was still pleasant:
“All the same, Bella, I think—I think you will do what I ask… You usually do, you know—in the end… Yes, I think you will do what I say….”
Three
THE ACCIDENT
It was Tuesday afternoon. The side door to the garden was open. Miss Arundell stood on the threshold and threw Bob’s ball the length of the garden path. The terrier rushed after it.
“Just once more, Bob,” said Emily Arundell. “A good one.”
Once again the ball sped along the ground with Bob racing at full speed in pursuit.
Miss Arundell stooped down, picked up the ball from where Bob laid it at her feet and went into the house, Bob followed h
er closely. She shut the side door, went into the drawing room, Bob still at her heels, and put the ball away in the drawer.
She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was half past six.
“A little rest before dinner, I think, Bob.”
She ascended the stairs to her bedroom. Bob accompanied her. Lying on the big chintz-covered couch with Bob at her feet, Miss Arundell sighed. She was glad that it was Tuesday and that her guests would be going tomorrow. It was not that this weekend had disclosed anything to her that she had not known before. It was more the fact that it had not permitted her to forget her own knowledge.
She said to herself:
“I’m getting old, I suppose…” And then, with a little shock of surprise: “I am old….”