Left alone, there was that strange silence between Lucia and her husband
which so often occurred nowadays. A barrier was between them, none the less
real because it was invisible. She knew his moods so well, and she dreaded
the things he might say, all his inhibitions gone, if he drank any of this
deadly Mexican stuff. She would have halted Gilbert had she dared; but she
knew that any such action on her part would have aroused Pell the more,
inflamed him to anger; and, like most women of fine breeding, she dreaded a
scene more than anything in the world. All that she said now was merely,
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Do what?" Pell asked, jerking out the two words in a high staccato. He
hated to be questioned, particularly by his wife. His hands reached for the
satchel he had brought in.
"Order a man around in his own house."
"And why not, I'd like to know?" Pell inquired. "Who's he, anyhow, and what
difference does it make?"
Lucia remained perfectly calm. "Well, if you can't see, of course--"
"There's no use your trying to tell me. Is that what you were going to
say?" His face showed his rage.
She did not answer. That infuriated him all the more.
Pages:
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91