Page:The Whisper on the Stair by Lyon Mearson (1924).djvu/132

 “Where were you thinking of going she asked quietly.

He shrugged his shoulders and considered for a moment. “Down in Virginia, perhaps⸺” he suggested.

“Well, go ahead,” she threw at him coldly, and her eyes seemed the only live thing in her pale face as she spoke.

“I’m going,” he nodded slowly. “So are you.”

He spoke as though this were an accepted fact; as though it required but for him to enunciate the words to assure her that she was indeed going. It was a matter-of-fact, simple and concise statement of the future.

“But not with you,” she said. “Not to Virginia—I’ll go where I please. And moreover, I want you to stay away from my property down there.”

“Ah, yes—your property,” he acquiesced. “My mortgage⸺”

“As you know, I have sent down the money to satisfy the mortgage. It is now my property completely, and I don’t want you down there—is that plain?”

He nodded silently, and held his peace for a few moments.

“You don’t want me down there,” he repeated at last, as one who, repeating a lesson by rote, parrots the words almost without knowing what they signify. His shifty, small eyes contracted.

“No,” she reiterated. “I want you to stay away from there.”

“Yes, you would,” he said. “You are afraid that if the money turns up down there⸺”

“Whether it turns up or not has nothing to do with you. It is mine and it’s going to stay mine.”

He had no answer for this for a few moments. When