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Waythorn, surprised in his armchair over the evening paper, stared back perplexedly at his visitor. "You'll excuse my asking to see you," Haskett continued. "But this is my last visit, and I thought if I could have a word with you it would be a better way than writing to Mrs. Waythorn's lawyer." Waythorn rose uneasily. He did not like the French governess either; but that was irrelevant.
Still, people shook their heads over him, and one grudging friend, to whom he affirmed that he took the step with his eyes open, replied oracularly: "Yes and with your ears shut." Waythorn could afford to smile at these innuendoes. In the Wall Street phrase, he had "discounted" them.
His expectations were fulfilled, and before the wedding took place Alice Varick's group had rallied openly to her support. She took it all imperturbably: she had a way of surmounting obstacles without seeming to be aware of them, and Waythorn looked back with wonder at the trivialities over which he had worn his nerves thin.
He paused, and went on more deprecatingly: "I'm not the kind to talk about enforcing my rights, Mr. Waythorn. I don't know as I think a man is entitled to rights he hasn't known how to hold on to; but this business of the child is different. I've never let go there and I never mean to." The scene left Waythorn deeply shaken.
Varick's grievances were of a nature to bear the inspection of the New York courts. A New York divorce is in itself a diploma of virtue, and in the semi-widowhood of this second separation Mrs. Varick took on an air of sanctity, and was allowed to confide her wrongs to some of the most scrupulous ears in town. But when it was known that she was to marry Waythorn there was a momentary reaction.
She colored a little, and faltered in what she was saying; but Varick nodded to Waythorn without rising, and the latter strolled on. In the carriage, on the way home, he broke out nervously: "I didn't know you spoke to Varick." Her voice trembled a little. "It's the first time he happened to be standing near me; I didn't know what to do.
Lily could show twelve years of unblemished health, and the case promised to be a light one. The nurse spoke as reassuringly, and after a moment of alarm Mrs. Waythorn had adjusted herself to the situation.
He was sure she would not have seen Haskett that first day if she had divined that Waythorn would object, and the fact that she did not divine it was almost as disagreeable to the latter as the discovery that she had lied to him. "I don't like the woman," Haskett was repeating with mild persistency. "She ain't straight, Mr. Waythorn she'll teach the child to be underhand.
"I am not so sure of that," he returned stiffly; "but since you wish it I will give your message to my wife." He always hesitated over the possessive pronoun in addressing Haskett. The latter sighed. "I don't know as that will help much. She didn't like it when I spoke to her." Waythorn turned red. "When did you see her?" he asked.
Waythorn murmured. He roused himself. "What does he want?" "He wants to see her. You know she goes to him once a week." "Well he doesn't expect her to go to him now, does he?" "No he has heard of her illness; but he expects to come here." "Here?" Mrs. Waythorn reddened under his gaze. They looked away from each other.
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