Page:Frank Owen - Woman Without Love (1949 reprint).djvu/65

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

Then Monty Camp and Mary would go out and sit upon the veranda together. His arm would steal about her waist and he would kiss her unresisting lips.

"Poor Yekial," he sighed, "he wasn't willing for me to jump his king, but he was not so solicitous about his queen."

They did not talk a great deal during those nocturnal interludes. After all there was no necessity for talk. Monty marveled that he had gained his point so easily with Mary. She was of exquisite beauty, her flesh was smooth, her lips were sweet. There was no reticence on her part. She gave herself to him, but she did not love him. He had slight appeal for her. He was merely a diversion, a means of escape. He prevented her from being lonely.

Monty was captivated. As the weeks lengthened into months he remained at the farm. He could not drag himself away, even after need of caution had gone and his escapades in town were all but forgotten.

One night Yekial Meigs awakened suddenly. He imagined that he had heard the echo of laughter. Laughter he hated. There was no place for loud laughter on his farm. A smile was sufficient record of mirth for anyone. Laughter was the pastime of fools and children. He had the feeling that it was late, almost daylight. Mechanically he put out his hand to touch Mary but she was not sleeping beside him. As he felt the pillow there was no indenture where her head had lain. There could be no doubt of it, she had never retired.

"Odd," he reflected. "What could keep her up till this unearthly hour?"

Yekial slept in his underwear and now as he rose soundlessly to his feet and crept down the stairs he presented an absurd appearance in the moonlight. The door of the house was open and as he peered outside he could discern the forms of Mary and Monty Camp laughing softly, enjoying a brief rhapsody of love.

In amazement Yekial stepped back. His face grew purple with rage. The veins stood out on his neck like hempen rope. He extended his hands, fingers clutching menacingly. They knocked down a tiny bisque statue from the whatnot cabinet that stood

63