"I can't stand this. I'll go abroad," he announced at the end of a good half hour.
"What's the matter, Hubbard?"
"Oh! I've been there again. I couldn't keep away. She was alone, for a wonder."
"You refer to your wife, I suppose. Well?"
He allowed me to finish my cigar before replying, then he said: "I have no business to tell you, but I shall. She is in love, and I believe with you."
"Nonsense."
"I wish it were," he answered dreamily, "but it is not. She has practically admitted it."
"That—she cares for me?" I cried.
"No—but for someone. And I am not so great a fool that I cannot read between the lines, although she thinks so. Her thoughts dwell constantly on you."