She tried valorously to eat what Magda supplied, but the food failed to tempt her. It wasn’t so much her physical condition, either; it was—She clenched her jaws firmly; was the memory of Nicholas Devine to haunt her forever?
“Pat Lane,” she said in admonition, “you’re a crackbrained fool! Just because a man kicks you all over the place is no reason to let him become an obsession.”
She drank her coffee, feeling the sting of its heat on her injured lips. She left the table, tramped firmly to her room, and began defiantly to read. The effort was useless; half a dozen times she forced her attention to the page only to find herself staring vaguely into space a moment or two later. She closed the book finally with an irritable bang, and vented her restlessness in pacing back and forth.
“This house is unbearable!” she snapped. “I’m not going to stay shut up here like a jailbird in solitary confinement. A walk in the open is what I need, and that’s what I’ll have.”
She glanced at the clock; seven-thirty. She tore off her robe pettishly, flung out of her pajamas, and began to dress with angry determination. She refused to think of a lonely figure that might even now be sitting disconsolately on a bench in the nearby park.
She disguised her bruised cheek as best she could, dabbed a little powder on the abrasion on her chin, and tramped militantly down the stairs. She caught up her wrap, still lying where the Doctor had tossed it last night, and moved toward the door, opening it and nearly colliding with the massive figure of Dr. Horker!
“Well!” boomed the Doctor as she started back in surprise. “You’re pretty spry for a patient. Think you were going out?”
“Yes,” said Pat defiantly.
“Not tonight, child! I left the Club early to take a look at you.”
“I am perfectly all right. I want to go for a walk.”
“No walk. Doctor’s orders.”
“I’m of legal age!” she snapped. “I want to go for a walk. Do I go?”
“You do not.” The Doctor placed his great form squarely in the doorway. “Not unless you can lick me, my girl, and I’m pretty tough. I put you to bed last night, and I can do as much tonight. Shall I?”
Pat backed into the hall. “You don’t have to,” she said sullenly. “I’m going there myself.” She flung her wrap angrily to a chair and stalked up the stairs.
“Good night, spitfire,” he called after her. “I’ll read down here until your mother comes home.”
The girl stormed into her room in anger that she knew to be illogical.
“I won’t be watched like a problem child!” she told herself viciously. “I know damn well what he thought—and I wasn’t going to meet Nick! I wasn’t at all!”
She calmed suddenly, sat on the edge of her bed and kicked off her pumps. It had occurred to her that Nick had written his intention to wait for her in the park tomorrow night as well, and Dr. Horker’s interference had confirmed her in a determination to meet him.
XIV
Bizarre Explanation
“I won’t be bullied!” Pat told herself, examining her features in the mirror. The two day interval had faded the discoloration of her cheek to negligible proportions, and all that remained as evidence of the violence of Saturday night was the diminishing mark on her chin. Of course, her knees—but they were covered; most of the time, at least. She gave herself a final inspection, and somewhere below a clock boomed.
“Eight o’clock,” she remarked to her image; “Time to be leaving, and it serves Dr. Carl right for his high-handed actions last night. I won’t be bullied by anybody.” She checked herself as her mind had almost added, “Except Nick.” True or not, she didn’t relish the thought; the recent recollections it roused were too disturbing.
She tossed a stray wisp of black hair from her forehead and turned to the door. She heard her mother’s voice as she descended the stairs.
“Are you going out, Patricia? Do you think it wise?”
“I am perfectly all right. I want to go for a walk.”
“I know, Dear; it was largely your appearance I meant.” She surveyed the girl with a critical eye. “Nice enough, except for that little spot on your chin, and will you never learn to keep your hair away from that side of your forehead? One can never do a bob right; why don’t you let it grow out like the other girls?”
“Makes me individual,” replied Pat, moving toward the outer door. “I won’t be late at all,” she added.
On the porch she cast a cautious glance at Dr. Horker’s windows, but his great figure was nowhere evident. Only a light burning in the library evinced his presence. She gave a sigh of relief, and tiptoed down the steps to the sidewalk, and moved hastily away from the range of his watchful eyes.
No sooner had she sighted the park than doubts began to torment her. Suppose this were some trick of Nicholas Devine’s, to trap her into some such situation as that of Saturday night. Even suppose that she found him the sweet personality that she had loved, might that also be a trick? Mightn’t he be trusting to his ability to win her over, to the charm she had confessed to him that he held for her? Couldn’t he be putting his faith in his own amorous skill, planning some specious explanation to win her forgiveness only to use her once more as the material for some horrible experiment? And if he were, would she be able to prevent herself from yielding?
“Forewarned is forearmed,” she told herself. “I’ll not put up such a feeble resistance this time, knowing what I now know. And it’s only fair of me to listen to his explanation, if he
