"What Mrs. Blake?" Jeff asked.
Reardon sat down and fussed with the answer.
"What Mrs. Blake?" he repeated, and flicked a spot of dust from his trousered ankle lifted to inspection.
"Yes," said Jeff, with an outward quiet. "Was that my wife?"
Again the colour rose in Reardon's face. It was the signal of an emotion that gave him courage.
"Why, yes," he said, "it was."
"What did she want?"
"Jeff," said Reardon, "it's no possible business of yours what Esther wants."
"You call her Esther?"
"I did then."