cw.imarriedadeadman-第11章

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　the　type。
　Grace　Henson；　she　was　that　stoutish；　flaxen…haired　girl　over　there；　waiting　for　the　punch…cup。　Or　was　she？　No；　she　was　the　less　stout　but　still　flaxen…haired　one　at　the　piano；　softly　playing　for　her　own　entertainment；　no　one　near　her。　One　wore　glasses　and　one　didn't。　They　must　be　sisters；　there　was　too　close　a　resemblance。　It　was　the　first　time　either　one　of　them　had　been　to　the　house。
　She　moved　over　to　the　piano　and　stood　beside　her。　She　might　actually　be　enjoying　doing　that；　for　all　Patrice　knew；　but　she　should　at　least　have　somebody　taking　an　appreciative　interest。
　The　girl　at　the　keyboard　smiled　at　her。　〃Now　this。〃　She　was　an　acplished　player；　keeping　the　music　subdued；　like　an　undertone　to　the　conversations　going　on　all　over　the　room。
　But　suddenly　all　the　near…by　ones　had　stopped。　The　music　went　on　alone　for　a　note　or　two；　sounding　that　much　clearer　than　it　had　before。
　The　second　flaxen…haired　girl　quitted　her　panion　for　a　moment；　stepped　up　behind　the　player's　back；　touched　her　just　once　on　the　shoulder；　as　if　in　some　kind　of　esoteric　remonstrance　or　reminder。　That　was　all　she　did。　Then　she　went　right　back　to　where　she'd　been　sitting。　The　whole　little　pantomime　had　been　so　deft　and　quick　it　was　hardly　noticeable　at　all。
　The　player　had　broken　off；　uncertainly。　She　apparently　had　understood　the　message　of　the　tap；　but　not　its　meaning。　The　slightly　bewildered　shrug　she　gave　Patrice　was　evidence　of　that。
　〃Oh；　finish　it；〃　Patrice　protested　unguardedly。　〃It　was　lovely。　What's　it　called？　I　don't　think　I've　ever　heard　it　before。〃
　〃It's　the　Barcarolle；　from　Tales　of　Hoffman；〃　the　other　girl　answered　unassumingly。
　The　answer　itself　was　in　anticlimax。　Standing　there　beside　the　player；　she　became　conscious　of　the　congealing　silence　immediately　about　her；　and　knew　it　wasn't　due　to　that；　but　to　something　that　must　have　been　said　just　before。　It　had　already　ended　as　she　detected　it；　but　awareness　of　it　lingered　on…in　her。　Something　had　happened　just　then。
　I've　said　something　wrong。　I　said　something　that　was　wrong　just　now。　But　I　don't　know　what　it　was；　and　I　don't　know　what　to　do　about　it。
　She　touched　her　punch…cup　to　her　lips；　there　was　nothing　else　to　do　at　the　moment。
　They　only　heard　it　near　me。　The　music　left　my　voice　stranded；　and　that　only　made　it　all　the　more　conspicuous。　But　who　else　in　the　room　heard？　Who　else　noticed？　Maybe　their　faces　will　tell…
　She　turned　slowly　and　glanced　at　them　one　by　one；　as　if　at　random。　Mother　Hazzard　was　deep　in　conversation　at　the　far　end　of　the　room；　looking　up　over　her　chair　at　someone。　She　hadn't　heard。　The　flaxenhaired　girl　who　had　delivered　the　cautioning　tap　had　her　back　to　her；　she　might　have　heard　and　she　might　not　But　if　she　had；　it　had　made　no　impression；　she　was　not　aware　of　her。　Guy　Ennis　was　holding　a　lighter　to　a　cigarette。　He　had　to　click　it　twice　to　make　it　spark；　and　it　had　all　his　attention。　He　didn't　look　up　at　her　when　her　glance　strayed　lightly　past　his　face。　The　two　girls　with　Bill；　they　hadn't　heard；　it　was　easy　to　see　that　They　were　oblivious　of　everything　else　but　the　bone　of　contention　between　them。
　No　one　was　looking　at　her。　No　one's　eyes　met　hers。
　Only　Bill。　His　head　was　slightly　down；　and　his　forehead　was　querulously　ridged；　and　he　was　gazing　up　from　under　his　brows　at　her　with　a　strange　sort　of　inscrutability。　Everything　they　were　saying　to　him　seemed　to　be　going　over　his　head。　She　couldn't　tell　if　his　thoughts　were　on　her；　or　a　thousand　miles　away。　But　his　eyes；　at　least；　were。
　She　dropped　her　own。
　And　even　after　she　did；　she　knew　that　his　were　still　on　her　none　the　less。
　
　
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　As　they　climbed　the　stairs　together；　after；　when　everyone　had　gone；　Mother　Hazzard　suddenly　tightened　an　arm　about　her　waist；　protectively。
　〃You　were　so　brave　about　it；〃　she　said。　〃You　did　just　the　right　thing；　to　pretend　not　to　know　what　it　was　she　was　playing。　Oh；　but　my　dear；　my　heart　went　out　to　you；　for　a　moment；　when　I　saw　you　standing　there。　That　look　on　your　face。　I　wanted　to　run　to　you　and　put　my　arms　around　you。　But　I　took　my　cue　from　you；　I　pretended　not　to　notice　anything　either。　She　didn't　mean　anything　by　it；　she's　just　a　thoughtless　little　fool。〃
　Patrice　moved　slowly　up　the　stairs　at　her　side；　didn't　answer。
　〃But　at　the　sound　of　the　very　first　notes；〃　Mother　Hazzard　went　on　ruefully；　〃he　seemed　to　be　right　back　there　in　the　room　with　all　of　us　again。　So　present；　you　could　almost　see　him　in　front　of　your　eyes。　The　Barcarolle。　His　favorite　song。　He　never　sat　down　to　a　piano　but　what　he　played　it。　Whenever　and　wherever　you　heard　that　being　played；　you　knew　Hugh　was　about　someplace。〃
　〃The　Barcarolle；〃　Patrice　murmured　almost　inaudibly；　as　if　speaking　to　herself。　〃His　favorite　song。〃
　
　
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　〃…different　now；〃　Mother　Hazzard　was　musing　fortably。　〃I　was　there　once；　as　a　girl；　you　know。　Oh；　many　years　ago。　Tell　me；　has　it　changed　much　since　those　days？〃
　Suddenly　she　was　looking　directly　at　Patrice；　in　innocent　exclusive　inquiry。
　〃How　can　she　answer　that；　Mother？〃　Father　Hazzard　cut　in　drily。　〃She　wasn't　there　when　you　were；　so　how　would　she　know　what　it　was　like　then？〃
　〃Oh；　you　know　what　I　mean；〃　Mother　Hazzard　retorted　indulgently。　〃Don't　be　so　hanged　precise。〃
　〃I　suppose　it　has；〃　Patrice　answered　feebly；　turning　the　handle　of　her　cup　a　little　further　toward　her；　as　if　about　to　lift　it；　and　then　not　lifting　it　after　all。
　〃You　and　Hugh　were　married　there；　weren't　you；　dear？〃　was　the　next　desultory　remark。
　Again　Father　Hazzard　interrupted　before　she　could　answer；　this　time　with　catastrophic　rebuttal。　〃They　were　married　in　London；　I　thought。　Don't　you　remember　that　letter　he　sent　us　at　the　time？　I　can　still　recall　it　'married　here　yesterday。'　London　letterhead。〃
　〃Paris；〃　said　Mother　Hazzard　firmly。　〃Wasn't　it；　dear？　I　still　have　it　upstairs；　I　can　get　it　and　show　you。　It　has　a　Paris　postmark。〃　Then　she　tossed　her　head　at　him　arbitrarily。　〃Anyway；　this　is　one　question　Patrice　can　answer　for　herself。〃
　There　was　suddenly　a　sickening　chasm　yawning　at　her　feet；　where　a　moment　before　all　had　been　security　of　footing；　and　she　couldn't　turn　back；　yet　she　didn't　know　how　to　get　across。
　She　could　feel　their　three　pairs　of　eyes　on　her；　Bill's　were　raised　now　too；　waiting　in　trustful　expectancy　that　in　a　moment；　with　the　wrong　answer；　would　change　to　something　else。
　〃London；〃　she　said　softly；　touching　the　handle　of　her　cup　as　if　deriving　some　sort　of　mystic　clairvoyance　from　it　〃But　then　we　left　immediately　for　Paris；　on　our　honeymoon。　I　think　what　happened　was；　he　began　the　letter　in　London；　didn't　have　time　to　finish　it；　and　then　posted　it　from　Paris。〃
　〃You　see；〃　said　Mother　Hazzard　pertly；　〃I　was　partly　right；　anyhow。〃
　〃Now　isn't　that　just　like　a　woman；〃　Father　Hazzard　marvelled　to　his　son。
　Bill's　eyes　had　remained　on　Patrice。　There　was　something　almost　akin　to　grudging　admiration　in　them；　or　did　she　imagine　that？
　〃Excuse　me；〃　she　said　stifledly；　thrusting　her　chair　back。　〃I　think　I　hear　the　baby　crying。〃
　
　
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　And　then；　a　few　weeks　later；　another　pitfall。　Or　rather　the　same　one；　ever…present；　ever　lurking　treacherously　underfoot　as　she　walked　this　path　of　her　own　choosing。
　It　had　been　raining；　and　it　grew　heavily　misted　out　A　rare　occurrence　for　Caulfield。　They　were　all　there　in　the　room　with　her　and　she　stopped　by　the　window　a　moment　in　passing　to　glance　out。
　〃Heavens；〃　she　exclaimed　incautiously；　〃I　haven't　seen　everything　look　so　blurry　since　I　was　a　child　in　San　Fran。　We　used　to　get　those　fogs　there。〃
　In　the　reflection　on　the　lighted　pane　she　saw　Mother　Hazzard's　head　go　up；　and　knew　before　she　had　even　turned　back　to　face　them　she　had　said　the　wrong　thing。　Trodden　incautiously　again；　where　there　was　no　support。
　〃In　San　Francisco；　dear？〃　Mother　Hazzard's　voice　was　guilessly　puzzled。　〃But　I　thought　you　were　raised　in…Hugh　wrote　us　you　were　originally　from…〃　And　then　she　didn't　finish　it；　withholding　the　clue；　no　helpful　second　choice　was　forthing　this　time。　Instead　a　flat　question　followed。　〃Is　that　where　you　were　born；　dear？〃
　〃No；〃　Patrice　said　distinctly；　and　knew　what　the　next　question　was　sure　to　be。　A　question　she　could　not　have　answered　at　the　moment。
　Bill　raised　his　head　suddenly；　turned　it　inquiringly　toward　the　stairs。　〃I　think　I　hear　the　youngster　crying；　Patrice。〃
　〃I'll　go　up　and　take　a　look；〃　she　said　gratefully；　and　left　the　room。

　He　was　in　a　soundless　sleep　when　she　got　to　him。　He　wasn't　making　a　whimper　that　anyone　could　possibly　have　heard。　She　stood　there　by　him　with　a　look　of　thoughtful　scrutiny　on　her　face。
　Had　he　really　thought　he　heard　the　baby　crying？
　
　
　21
　
　Then　there　was　the　day　she　was　slowly　sauntering　along　Congress　Avenue；　window…shopping。　Congress　Avenue　was　the　main　retail　thoroughfare。　Looking　at　this　window…display；　looking　at　that；　not　intending　to　buy　anything；　not　needing　to。　But　enjoying　herself　all　the　more　in　this　untrammelled　state。　Enjoying　the　crowd　of　welldressed　shoppers　thronging　the　sunlit　sidewalk　all　about　her；　the　great　majority　of　them　women　at　that　forenoon　hour　of　the　day。　Enjoying　the　bustle；　the　spruce　activity；　they　conveyed。　Enjoying　this　carefree　moment；　this　brief　respite　（an　errand　for　Mother　Hazzard；　a　promise　to　pick　something　up　for　her；　was　what　had　brought　her　downtown）；　all　the　more　for　knowing　that　it　was　a　legitimate　absence；　not　a　dereliction；　and　that　the　baby　was　safe；　well　taken　care　of　while　she　was　gone。　And　that　she'd　enjoy　returning　to　it　all　the　more；　after　this　short　diversion。
　It　was　simply　a　matter　of　taking　the　bus　at　the　next　stop　ahead；　instead　of　at　the　nearer　one　behind　her；　and　strolling　the　difference　between　the　two。
　And　then　from　somewhere　behind　her　she　heard　her　name　called。　She　recognized　the　voice　at　the　first　syllable。　Cheerful；　sunny。　Bill。　She　had　her　smile　of　greeting　ready　before　she　had　even　turned　her　head。
　Two　of　his　long；　energetic　strides　and　he　was　beside　her。
　〃Hello　there。　I　thought　I　recognized　you。〃
　They　stopped　for　a　minute；　face　to　face。
　〃What　are　you　doing　out　of　the　office？〃
　〃I　was　on　my　way　back　just　now。　Had　to　go　over　and　see　a　man。　And　you？〃
　〃I　came　down　to　get　Mother　some　imported　English　yarn　she　had　waiting　for　her　at　Bloom's。　Before　they　send　it　out；　I　can　be　there　and　back　with　it。〃
　〃I'll　walk　with　you；〃　he　offered。　〃Good　excuse　to　loaf。　As　far　as　the　next　corner　anyhow。〃
　〃That's　where　I'm　taking　my　bus　anyway；〃　she　told　him。
　They　turned　and　resumed　their　course；　but　at　the　snail's　pace　she　had　been　maintaining　by　herself　before　now。
　He　crinkled　his　nose　and　squinted　upward　appreciatively。　〃It　does　a　fellow　good　to　get　out　in　the　sun　once　in　awhile。〃
　〃Poor　abused　man。　I'd　like　to　have　a　penny　for　every　time　you're　out　of　that　office　during　hours。〃
　He　chuckled　unabashedly。　〃Can　I　help　it　if　Dad　sends　me？　Of　course；　I　always　happen　to　get　right　in　front　of　him　when　he's　looking　around　for　someone　to　do　the　legwork。〃
　They　stopped。
　〃Those're　nice；〃　she　said　appraisingly。
　〃Yes；〃　he　agreed。　〃But　what　are　they？〃
　〃You　know　darned　well　they're　hats。　Don't　try　to　be　so　superior。〃
　They　went　on；　stopped　again。
　〃Is　this　what　they　call　window…shopping？〃