Mr. Copewell looked as much astonished as though he had been suddenly called on for proof that Purgatory is not pleasant in August. His voice almost broke.
“They are sending her—so that she may forget me!”
“You can send a girl to Europe,” reassured his friend, “but you can’t make her—sane.”
“They don’t have to make her sane—she is perfectly sane now!” retorted Lewis with commendable heat.
“Then why,” inquired the lawyer logically, “should it be necessary to send her to Europe?”
“It’s not necessary. It’s hideous!” Emotion strangled Mr. Copewell. “They are packing her off—because she loves me!”
“Oh!” Mr. Burrow’s voice was apologetic. “I thought you said she was sane.”
Mr. Copewell’s reply may be omitted. In fact the Editor insists upon its being omitted. The following is an inadequate indication of its tenor: “——!——!!——!!!——!!!!——!!!!!”
“Going to send her to Europe,” mused Mr. Burrow as though he had not heard. Then he inquiringly raised his brows and added, “Who?”
“Who? What?” repeated Mr. Copewell, bewildered.