“Defaulter as to my side of the matrimonial bargain, which was to provide the establishment,” said Evanston. “The realization of this fact was sudden and painful.”
“Sudden? How do you mean sudden?” asked Mr. Carteret.
“Something happened,” said Evanston, “that opened my eyes.”
“Do you mean the loss of your money?”
“No,” said Evanston, “you know the money end of it came out all right. My uncle died, and I inherited more than I had lost; but I had already learned how much and how little money could do. And so things drifted along, and now the only course open seems to be to call it all off.” Evanston was silent.
“Is that all?” asked Mr. Carteret.
“Yes,” replied the other.
“Frank,” said Mr. Carteret, “you have told me everything but the facts. Don’t interrupt,” he went on, as Evanston made a gesture of protest. “The essence of the matter is this—you think that your wife is in love with Ned Palfrey; you believe Palfrey in love with her, and you are jealous of him.”
“I don’t see the need of going into that,” said Evanston. “There is no scandal. I trust my wife and I trust Palfrey.”
“The need of going into it,” said Mr. Carteret, “is to set you right on two points. First, your wife doesn’t care for Palfrey except as a friend, and if I am any judge of what is going on in a woman’s mind, she cares more about you than you will allow her to show you. Secondly, except as a friend, Palfrey doesn’t care for your wife.”