Yet  it  seemed  such  a  strange  thing  for  him  to  trouble
about  that  now.  But  Lionel,  poor  Lionel,  had  always
had  an  almost  morbid  wish  to  be  liked — to  stand  well
with  people,  so  she  told  herself  with  a  strange  feeling  of
pain  at  her  heart.
They  walked  back  together  into  the  house,  and  Blanche,
going  over  to  the  fire-place,  poured  herself  out  another
cup  of  tea.
In  a  sense  she  still  felt  as  if  she  was  living  through  a
terrible,  unreal  dream,  and  yet  it  was  an  unutterable  re-
lief to  be  no  longer  obliged  to  pretend.
She  glanced  furtively  at  Varick.
He  looked  calm,  cheerful,  collected.  "Will  you  excuse
me  for  a  few  moments?  I  have  got  several  things  to
do/'  he  said.  'Then  I  think  I  will  go  out  and  tramp
about  for  a  bit.  It's  been  a  strain  for  you  as  well  as  for
me,  Blanche,"  he  added  sympathetically.
"Yes,  it  has,"  she  answered  almost  inaudibly.
"Is  there  anything  I  can  get  you?"  he  asked.  "Will
you  be  quite  comfortable?"

She  repeated,  mechanically:  "Quite  comfortable,  thank
you,  Lionel,"  and  then,  as  an  after-thought:  "I  suppose
*ve  shall  dine  at  the  same  time  as  usual?"

"Certainly — why  not?"     He  looked  puzzled  at  her


272       FROM  OUT  THE  VASTY  DEEP

question.  "Let  me  see — it's  not  much  after  five  now;
111  be  back  by  seven."

He  walked  to  the  door,  and  from  there  turned  round.
"So  long!"  he  cried  out  cheerily,  and  she  was  sur-
prised, for  Varick  seldom  made  use  of  any  slang  or
colloquialism.
Feeling  all  at  once  utterly  exhausted  and  spent,  she
drew  a  deep  chair  forward  to  the  fire  and  lay  back  in  it.
Her  mind  seemed  completely  to  empty  itself  of  thought.
