For just now Cowperwood was more of a public figure than ever, and it was among the highest of distinctions to be his acknowledged wife.
Her chief curiosity was whether Tollifer would follow her or not. For this was a visit that was likely to last for six months, may be longer.
Immediately, therefore, she informed him of her forthcoming departure.
His reactions were rather complicated, for in the background there was Marigold, who wanted him to cruise with her to the North Cape.
By now, he had seen enough of her to feel that if he continued his suit, she might actually arrange a divorce and marry him, and she possessed considerable money of her own.
He did not really love her; he was still dreaming of a romance with a younger girl.
Then, there was the matter of immediate and continued income.
Any interruption of that would at once end his butterfly existence.
He felt that Cowperwood, though having given no hint, would prefer him to return to New York.
But whether he went or stayed, it had come to the point, he felt, when continued pursuit of Aileen, without some declaration of affection, would not seem to her reasonable.
He was satisfied that she would yield nothing, but it would flatter her. And this, in itself, was excuse enough for the approach.
“Pshaw!” he exclaimed, on hearing the news from her.
“This throws me all out!”
He paced nervously back and forth, having dropped in to see her after a luncheon with Marigold at Madame Gemy’s bar. His face simulated grave concern and disappointment. “What’s the matter?” inquired Aileen, seriously. “What has gone wrong?” She noticed that he had been drinking, not enough to unbalance him in any way but sufficient to darken his mood.
“This is too bad,” he said, “and just when I was thinking that something might come out of it all for both of us.”
Aileen stared at him, not a little puzzled.
To be sure, this more or less anomalous relationship had been growing on her.
In an unformulated way, she was attracted to him more than she had acknowledged to herself.
Yet having observed him with Marigold and others, she was convinced, as she had said more than once, that a woman could not trust him from one end of the room to the other.
“I don’t know whether you feel it or not,” he went on, calculatingly, “but there’s a lot more than just a social acquaintance between you and me.
I’ll admit that when I first met you, I didn’t think there would be.
I was interested by the fact that you were Mrs. Cowperwood, part of a life that I had heard a great deal about.
But after we’d had a few talks together, I began to feel something else.
I’ve seen a lot of trouble in my life.
I’ve had my ups and downs, and I suppose I always will.
But there was something about you those first few days on the boat that made me think maybe you had, too.
That’s why I wanted to be with you, although, as you saw for yourself, there were lots of other women whose company I might have had.”
He lied with the air of one who had never told anything but the truth.
And this bit of acting impressed her.
She had suspected him of fortune-hunting, and possibly that was true.
Yet if he did not really like her, why all this effort on his part to improve her appearance and reorganize her onetime power to charm?
She experienced a sudden emotional glow, perhaps half motherhood and half youth and desire.
For one could not help liking this waster; he was so genial, cheering, and in a subtle way, affectionate.
“But what difference does it make about my going back to New York?” she asked wonderingly.
“Can’t we be friends just the same?”
Tollifer considered.
Having established this matter of his affection, now what?
Always the thought of Cowperwood dominated him.
What would he desire him to do?
“Just think,” he said, “you’re running off in the ideal time over here, June and July.
And just when we were getting into the swing of things!”
He lit a cigarette and fixed himself a drink.
Why hadn’t Cowperwood given him a sign as to whether he wanted him to keep Aileen in Paris or not?
Perhaps he would yet, but if so, he’d better be quick about it.
“Frank has asked me to go, and I can’t do anything else,” she said, calmly.
“As for you, I don’t imagine you’ll be lonely.”
“You don’t understand,” he said.
“You’ve made a kind of center for me over here.
I feel happier now and more contented than I have for years.
And if you go back now, it may be broken up.”