“Oh, no—try one on me, I’d like it,” he laughed to cover her emotion, and changed the subject quickly.
When he returned to town he called up the Frohman offices, asking for Jarvis’s address. He was still at the National Arts Club, they assured him. So that evening he presented himself there unannounced. He found Jarvis alone in the reading-room, a book open before sightless eyes. He rose to greet Strong, with evident reluctance.
“I’m glad to find you, Jocelyn. I have something particular to say to you.”
“So? Sit down, won’t you?”
“I’ve just come back from Sunnyside, where I spent the night. I wanted to settle the details of your wife’s next serial.”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen her since the opening night?”
“No.”
“I think she is either very ill, or very unhappy, possibly both. She seems such a frail little thing that one dreads any extra demands on her. I knew you stayed on to look after the business here, of course. . . . You know the dear, blind, old Professor. Naturally you are the person to look
