“How have you been, my dear? Up to no good, I see. She held it down with the poker, looking nervously over her shoulder. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. ” She looked at him wistfully, but with some unwilling doubt in her wrinkled forehead. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest. She was flushed, and her eyes were bright and angry; her breath came sobbing, and her hair was all abroad in wandering strands of black.
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