Hamilton, Donald - Novel 01 (26 page)

     
"You'll figure it out," he said.

 
   
"You're
afraid, Philip," she said. "Afraid of what people will think.
Because of the divorce.
Because my husband
was of
Vichy
....
You really want me, don't
you, Philip?" she whispered. "And you will always remember and
regret, and wonder what happened to me....?

 
   
What
she was saying was quite true, but it did not make any difference.

 
   
"It's
getting light." he said. "You'd better go. There's a bus at
six-thirty."

     
"You love me," she said.
"If you were not afraid ..."
 

     
He glanced at her irritably. "It's
too damned complicated" he said. "And it isn't worth it. I could love
you twice as much as I do and it still wouldn't be worth it."

     
Her laughter was a little shrill.
"That's what I said about ... about Louis, isn't it?"

 
   
He
nodded. "Yes. He wasn't worth it, to you. Not when it started to hurt. And
I wasn't worth it when you thought I might let you swim ashore...."

 
   
She
was silent. At last she said softly, "I could cry.
If I
cried, you would let me stay, wouldn't you, Philip?"

     
He did not say anything. He watched her
push the money and the gun into the pocket of her jacket and turn away. It
seemed a very long time before the door closed behind her.

 
   
Presently
he shivered a little and went forward and locked the door and put the chair on
which Constance
Bellamann
had sat under the knob.
There was nothing left to do but bathe and sleep and go home.