"Then I take it the Towers is shut up. Are you giving me a bed at the Hermitage?" he asked quietly.
"No. I have kept the house open so that it might be ready if at any time your wife suddenly decided to come home. I imagined that would be your wish."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Craven hurriedly, "you did quite right." Then he glanced about him and frowned again thoughtfully. "Isn't this the Daimler Gillian took to France with her--surely that is Phillipe driving?" he asked abruptly, peering through the window at the chauffeur's back illuminated by the electric lamp in the roof of the car.
"She sent it back a few months afterwards--said she had no need for it," replied Peters. "I kept Phillipe on because he was a better mechanic than the other man. There was no need for two."
Craven refrained from comment and relapsed into silence, which was unbroken until they reached the house.
During dinner the conversation was mainly of Africa and the scientific success of the mission, and of local events, topics that could safely be discussed in the hearing of Forbes and the footmen. From time to time Craven glanced about the big room with tightened lips. It seemed chill and empty for lack of the slight girlish figure whose presence had brought sunshine into the great house. If she chose never to return! It was unthinkable that he could live in it alone, it would be haunted by memories, he would see her in every room. And yet the thought of leaving it again hurt him. He had never known until he had gone to Africa with no intention of returning how dear the place was to him. He had suddenly realised that he was a Craven of Craven, and all that it meant. But without Gillian it was valueless. A shrine without a treasure. An empty symbol that would stand for nothing. Her personality had stamped itself on the house, even yet her influence lingered in the huge formal dining room where he sat. It had been her whim when they were alone to banish the large table that seemed so preposterously big for two people and substitute a small round one which was more intimate, and across which it was possible to talk with greater ease. Forbes was a man of fixed ideas and devoted to his mistress. Though absent her wishes were faithfully carried out. Mrs. Craven had decreed that for less than four people the family board was an archaic and cumbersome piece of furniture, consequently tonight the little round table was there, and brought home to Craven even more vividly the sense of her absence. It seemed almost a desecration to see Peters sitting opposite in her place.