CHAPTER IX
MARNEY made her journey to London that afternoon in almost complete silence. She sat in a corner of the limousine, and felt herself separated from the man she had married by a distance which was becoming immeasurable. Once or twice she stole a timid glance at him, but he was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not even notice. They were not pleasant thoughts, to judge by his unchanging scowl.
All the way up he nibbled at his nails; a wrinkle between his eyes. It was not until the big car was bowling across one of the river bridges that the strain was relieved, and he turned his head, regarding her coldly.
"We're going abroad to-morrow," he said, and her heart sank.
"I thought you were staying in town for a week, Jeff," she asked, trouble in her eyes. "I told father.
