"I've been trying to get you on the 'phone all day. But, in point of fact, though Mrs. Stellery consented to the signal, I had to argue with her all this morning to get her to meet this man. You can imagine how I feel! I wonder if I've done wrong? Can you fancy how it feels to send your wife to a rendezvous to meet an anonymous correspondent? By Jove! I didn't know how much I loved her, before! You know, I've neglected her shamefully, I suppose. I've been absorbed in my work, and that's why this sort of thing has been possible. I suppose people have seen her going about alone, and have thought perhaps we were estranged, even. And every thing this damned scoundrel has been writing her is true, by Jove. She is charming, you can see that! She's one of ten thousand, that woman! I ought to know. Now, at the faintest prospect of losing her, absurd as that chance is—why, I'm fairly crazy about her. If I saw that man with her, I don't care who he is, I believe I'd kill him!"
"Which is another reason for your not going," said Astro, rising. "There must be no scene. You can trust Mrs. Stellery to make the talk brief and forcible enough, and, in any case, you may depend on me to protect her."
It was nearly a quarter to six before he reached Times Square. He entered the building and started down-stairs toward the subway entrance on his way to the drug store below the street, when a man brushed past him, almost jostling him off the step in his haste. The man looked round to apologize; it was Doctor Primfield.
