he point of your waiting
till September to come back. Why don't you come _now_?
'We're going away for Archie's holidays. Come back and see us and take
Freddie with us somewhere in England. You told me to ask you when I
wanted you--ask you anything I wanted. Well, I want to see you. I miss
you too much. You arrived in Paris last night. Let me knew when you can
come. I want you.
Edith.'
The bell was rung violently. Orders were given, arrangements made,
packing was done. Aylmer was suddenly quite well, quite happy.
In a few hours he was in the midnight express due to arrive in London
at six in the morning--happy beyond expression.
By ten o'clock in the morning he would hear her voice on the telephone.
He met a poor man just outside the hotel selling matches, in rags.
Aylmer gave him three hundred francs. He pretended to himself that he
didn't want any more French money. He felt he wanted someone else to be
happy too.
CHAPTER XVIII
A Contretemps
Edith did not know, herself, what had induced her to write that letter
to Paris. Some gradual obscure influence, in an impulsive moment of
weakness, a conventional dread of Paris for one's idol. Then, what
Vincy told her had convinced her Aylmer was unhappy. She thought that
surely there might be some compromise; that matters could be adjusted.
Couldn't they go on seeing each other just as friends? Surely both
would be happier than separated? For, yes--there was no doubt she
missed him, and longed to see him. Is there any woman in the world on
whom a sincere declaration from a charming, interesting person doesn't
make an impression, and particularly if that person goes away
practically the next day, leaving a blank? Edith had a high opinion of
her own strength of will. When she appeared weak it was on some subject
about which she was indifferent. She took a great pride in her own
self-poise; her self-control, which was neither coldness nor density.
She had made up her mind to bear always with the little irritations
Bruce caused her; to guide him in the right direction; keep her
influence with him in order to be able to arrange everything about the
children just as she wished. The children were a deep and intense
preoccupation. To say she adored them is insufficient. Archie she
regarded almost as her greatest friend, Dilly as a pet; for both she
had the strongest feeling that a mother could have. And yet the fact
remained that they did not nearly fill her lif
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