“Oh, no, not beyond a natural wonder as to what it could be. But I am very fond of Alma Remsen, and I was positive it couldn’t be anything really serious. Perhaps an early love affair or escapade that would be better left buried in oblivion.”
“So you had words over it all.”
“Yes, I was so insistent that he should not tell me, and he so equally insistent that I should hear it, that we had a real quarrel.”
“How did it wind up?”
“By his leaving my house—he was calling on me—in a rage. I admit it was a foolish thing to quarrel about, but I was determined to have my way in the matter, and I did.”
“When was this affair?”
“It was Monday night.”
“And to-day is Thursday. You didn’t see him again?”
“No. He sulked Tuesday and Wednesday. I called him on the telephone yesterday and asked him if he was going to the Moores’ dinner party, and he said ‘No,’ very shortly and hung up the receiver.”
“He was really angry, then?”