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I think something has happened. She looked queer." Pam started. "Poor dear I'll go and speak to her only, you know, she never says a word to me about her trouble, whatever it is. I wonder " "Love story, of course," returned Lensky, briefly. "When a woman looks like that it always is a love story." "Yes, but Théo is such a dear! And I know he writes to her." "Then it isn't Théo.
The dominant characteristic in it had hitherto been disdainful bearing of small annoyances; now it showed a grim endurance of a great suffering. "Bicky, dear," Pam asked suddenly, coming up unheard, "what is it?" She started. "What is what?" "Your trouble. Oh, don't tell me if you don't want to, but I can see you are suffering, and I used to tell the Duchess, long ago, and it always did me good."
But the feverish, excited sobs only came the faster, and more wildly. "Why did I ever come?" Theo gasped. "It would have been better to have lived and died in Downport far better, I can tell you now, Pam, now that it is all over. I loved him, and he loved me, too; he loved me always from the first, though we both tried so hard, so hard; yes, we did, Pamela, to help it.
They had dug a cave on the shore, and played smugglers all the evening; and one fellow had brought out a real cutlass and a real pistol, that belonged to his father, and they had played fighting the coast-guard, and they were as hungry as the dickens now; and was tea ready, and wouldn't Pam let them have some strawberry-jam?
Our minds are of such a make, that they naturally give themselves up to every diversion which they are much accustomed to, and we always find, that play, when followed with assiduity, engrosses the whole woman. She quickly grows uneasy in her own family, takes but little pleasure in all the domestic innocent endearments of life, and grows more fond of Pam than of her husband.
Judge Pam gave me, or gave her, rather, the divorce. I guess he did well. Maybe she was entitled to it. Desertion and cruelty were the charges. But they don't mean anything. The chief complaint she had against me was that I was an auctioneer." Mr. Ludlow sighed and ran his long, artist's fingers over his eagle features and brushed back a Byronic lock of hair from his forehead.
Desmond turned to his sister. 'Look here, Pam, this time next week I shall be in the line. Well, I daresay I shan't be at the actual front for a week or two but it won't be long. We shall want every battery we've got. Now suppose I don't come back? 'Desmond! 'For goodness' sake, don't be silly, old girl. We've got to look at it, you know. I saw that in one of the papers this morning.
She's a funny, dear old lady! Aunt Pam you know she's my only mother, I got all my early knowledge from her! Aunt Pam detests the usual New York girl, and the minute I met you I knew she'd like you. You'd sort of fit into the Dayton picture, with your braids, and those ruffly things you wear!" Margaret said simply, "I would love to meet her," and began slowly to draw on her gloves.
Shall I tell Théo, and make him tell? Or shall I be brave as Pam would and tell him myself!" Then, realising her absurdity in forgetting that after all it was more Théo's affair than his father's, she laughed aloud. It was easy to laugh, for whatever happened she would see Victor Joyselle that evening, and beyond that she could not, would not, look.
According to the Duchess, Pam is a mine of wisdom. But I know what she did about that Peele man, and I haven't the courage to do that. Oh, why did I ever see Théo? Then I'd have married Ponty, and what's that?" Wheeling fiercely, she faced the door leading from her sitting-room into the passage. It opened noiselessly and Carron came in, dressed as she had last seen him.
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