“‘Why, yes, of course I am,’ I responded, laughingly. ‘Why?’
“‘You look thoroughly disconsolate tonight. Are you worrying about something? About—about Chauncey and his doings?’
“‘About Chauncey and his doings? Why, what do you mean? Why should I? He is perfectly well, isn’t he?’
“‘Yes, his physical health is good, but you surely know that he is drinking hard, and his neglect of you is occasioning a great deal of comment. It isn’t right, and we all feel it.’
“‘Why, I hadn’t thought about it,’ I said, ‘only that he was very busy.’
“‘Do you mean to say you don’t know the way he has been doing. Why, I could take you to him this very minute.’
“My face burned, my heart began to throb violently. Tears of anger slowly welled up and overflowed my eyes. And yet I really could not comprehend it all.
“‘You must be mistaken, Horace. Surely Chauncey loves me still. We have never had any cross words or misunderstandings.’
“It may have been pique at my incredulity that made him say suddenly, ‘Lucile, come with me. Get your wraps and come, and put on a heavy veil. I will show you.’