all her pity was stirred, and as they went along the passage to Hugh's room, she slipped her arm into his. She knew that her coup was slightly theatrical, but there seemed no better way of showing him. It might fail: he might still desire explanations, but it was worth trying.
"And remember I am sorry," she said, "and be sure that Nadine will be sorry."
"Riddles," said Seymour.
"Yes, my dear, riddles if you will," said she. "But you may guess the answer."
Dodo quietly turned the handle of the door into the nurse's room, and entered with her arm still in his. She made a sign of silence, and took Seymour straight through into the sick-room. All was as she had left it a quarter-of-an-hour ago; Nadine still slept and Hugh, in that same attitude of security and love. Her head was drooped; she slept as only children and lovers sleep. But Dodo with all her intuition did not see as much as Seymour, who loved her, saw. The truth of it was branded into his brain, whereas it only shone in hers. She saw the situation: he felt it.
Then with a signal of pressure on his arm, she led him out again.
"She has been there all night," she said. "She only fell asleep at dawn."
They were in the passage again before Seymour spoke.
"There is no need for me to awake her or talk to her," he said. "You were quite right. And I congratulate you on your ensemble. I should have guessed that it required most careful rehearsal. And I should have been wrong. And now, for God's sake, don't be kind and tender—"
He took his arm away from hers, feeling for her then more resentment than he might feel against the footman who conveyed cold soup to him. He did not want the footman's sympathy, nor did he want Dodo's.
"And spare me your optimism," he said. "If you tell me it is all for the best, I shall scream. It isn't for the best, as far as I am concerned. It is damned bad. I was a Thing, and Nadine made a man of me. Now she is tired of her handiwork, and says that I shall be a Thing again. And don't tell me I shall get over it. The fact that I know I shall, makes your information, which was on the tip of your tongue, wanton and superfluous. But if you think I shall love Hugh, because he loves Nadine, you are utterly astray. I am not a child in a Sunday school, letting the teacher smack both sides of my face. I hate Hugh, and I am not the least touched by the disgusting spectacle you have taken me on tiptoe to see. They looked like two amorous monkeys in the monkey-house."
Seymour suddenly paused and gasped.
"They didn't," he said. "At any rate Nadine looked as I have often pictured her looking. The difference is that it was myself, not Hugh, beside whom I imagined her falling asleep. That makes a lot of difference if you happen to be the person concerned. And now I hope the motor is ready to take me away, and many thanks for an absolutely damnable visit. Don't look pained. It doesn't hurt you as much as it hurts me. There is a real cliché to finish with."
Dodo's coup had been sufficiently theatrical to satisfy her, but she had not reckoned with the possible savageness that it might arouse. Seymour's temper, as well as his love, was awake, and she had not thought of the two as being at home simultaneously, but had imagined they played Box-and-Cox with each other in the minds of men. Here Box and Cox met, and they were hand-in-hand. He was convinced and angry: she had imagined he would be convinced and pathetic. With that combination she had felt herself perfectly competent to deal. But his temper roused hers.
"You are at least interesting," she said briskly, "and I have enjoyed what you call your damnable visit as much as you. You seem to have behaved decently yesterday, but no doubt that was Nadine's mistake."
"Not at all: it was mine," he said.
"Which you now recognize," said she. "I am afraid you must be off, if you want to catch your train. Good-by."
"Good-by," said he.
He turned from her at the top of the stairs, and went down a half-dozen of them. Then suddenly he turned back again.
"Don't you see I'm in hell?" he said.
Dodo entirely melted at that, and ran down the stairs to him.
"Oh, Seymour, my dear," she said. "A woman's pity can't hurt you. Do accept it."
She drew that handsome tragical face towards her, and kissed him.
"Do you mind my kissing you?" she said. "There's my heart behind it. There is, indeed."
"Thanks, Aunt Dodo," he said. "And—and you might tell Nadine I saw her like that. I am not so very stupid. I understand: good-by."
"And Hugh?" she asked, quite unwisely, but in that optimistic spirit that he had deprecated.
"Don't strain magnanimity," he said. "It's quality is not strained. Say good-by to Nadine for me. Say I saw her asleep, and didn't disturb her. I never thought much of her intelligence, but she may understand that. She will have to tell me what she means to do. That I require. At present our wedding-day is fixed."
Seymour broke off suddenly and ran downstairs without looking back.
Dodo was quite sincerely very sorry for him, but almost the moment he had gone she ceased to think about him altogether, for there were so many soul-absorbing topics to occupy her, and forgetting she had had no breakfast, she went to Edith's room (Edith alone had not the slightest intention of going away) to discuss them. Her optimism was luckily quite incurable: she could not look on the darker aspect of affairs for more than a minute or two. She found Edith breakfasting in bed, with a large fur cape flung over her shoulders. Her breakfast had been placed on a table beside her, but for greater convenience she had disposed the plates round her, on her counterpane. There were also disposed there sheets of music-paper, a pen and ink-bottle, and a box of cigarettes. The window was wide open, and as Dodo entered the draught caused the music paper to flutter, and Edith laid hasty restraining hands on it, and screamed with her mouth full.
"Shut the door quickly!" she cried. "And then come and have some breakfast, Dodo. I don't think I shall get up to-day. I have been composing since six this morning, and if I get up the thread may be entirely broken. Beethoven worked at the C minor Symphony for three days and nights without eating, sleeping, or washing."
"I see you are eating," remarked Dodo. "I hope that won't prevent your giving us another C minor."
"The C minor is much over-rated work," said Edith; "it is commonplace melodically, and clumsily handled. If I had composed it, I should not be very proud of it."
"Which is a blessing you didn't, because then you would have composed something of which you were not proud," said Dodo, ringing the bell. "Yes, I shall have some breakfast with you. Oh, Edith, everything is so interesting, and Hughie has slept all night, and Nadine with him. They are sleeping now, Nadine on the floor half-sitting up with her head against the bed, looking too sweet for anything. And poor dear Seymour has just gone away. I took him in to see them by way of breaking it to him. Whoever guessed that he would fall in love with her? It is very awkward, for I thought it would be such a nice sensible marriage. And now of course there will be no marriage at all."
At this moment the bell was answered, and Edith in trying to prevent her music-paper from practising aviation, upset the ink-bottle. Several minutes were spent in quenching the thirst of sheets of blotting paper at it, as you water horses when their day's work is over.
"One of the faults of your mind, Dodo," said Edith, as this process was going on,
