_ CHAPTER XIX
Billy went into the gardens in pursuit of Margaret. He was almost happy now and felt vaguely ashamed of himself. Then he came upon Kathleen Saumarez, who, indeed, was waiting for him there; and his heart went down into his boots.
He realised on a sudden that he was one of the richest men in America. It was a staggering thought. Also, Mr. Woods's views, at this moment, as to the advantages of wealth, might have been interesting.
Kathleen stood silent for an instant, eyes downcast, face flushed. She was trembling.
Then, "Billy," she asked, almost inaudibly, "do--do you still want--your answer?"
The birds sang about them. Spring triumphed in the gardens. She looked very womanly and very pretty.
To all appearances, it might easily have been a lover and his lass met in the springtide, shamefaced after last night's kissing. But Billy, somehow, lacked much of the elation and the perfect content and the disposition to burst into melody that is currently supposed to seize upon rustic swains at such moments. He merely wanted to know if at any time in the remote future his heart would be likely to resume the discharge of its proper functions. It was standing still now.
However, "Can you ask--dear?" His words, at least, lied gallantly.
The poor woman looked up into Billy's face. After years of battling with the world, here for the asking was peace and luxury and wealth incalculable, and--as Kathleen thought--a love that had endured since they were boy and girl together. Yet she shrunk from him a little and clinched her hands before she spoke.
"Yes," Kathleen faltered, and afterward she shuddered.
And here, if for the moment I may prefigure the Eagle as a sentient being, I can imagine his chuckle.
"Please God," thought poor Billy, "I will make her happy. Yes, please God, I can at least do that, since she cares for me."
Then he kissed her.
"My dear," said he, aloud, "I'll try to make you happy. And--and you don't mind, do you, if I leave you now?" queried this ardent lover. "You see, it's absolutely necessary I should see--see Miss Hugonin about this will business. You don't mind very much, do you--darling?" Mr. Woods inquired of her, the last word being rather obviously an afterthought.
"No," said she. "Not if you must--dear."
Billy went away, lugging a heart of lead in his breast.
Kathleen stared after him and gave a hard, wringing motion of her hands. She had done what many women do daily; the thing is common and sensible and universally commended; but in her own eyes, the draggled trollop of the pavements was neither better nor worse than she.
At the entrance of the next walkway Billy encountered Felix Kennaston--alone and in the most ebulliently mirthful of humours. _