Katharine flung him a bewitching smile.
“If,” she said, “you don’t tell anyone, you shall use my sponge.”
“Kate,” said her husband, “I perceive that we are off. This separation stunt is going to work wonders.”
He was perfectly right.
Galbraith Forsyth, solicitor, was an honest man. Also he knew his world and could tell the sheep from the goats. He could be stern, and he could be most gentle. To those whom he trusted, who trusted him, he gave a service which money cannot buy. His judgment alone was invaluable. The sheep liked him, immensely. The goats hated him. But both respected him with a whole heart. If he had any pet lambs, the Festivals were among them.
He received the two pleasedly, bade them sit down, and drew the lady’s attention to a bunch of daffodils.
“Posies are seldom seen in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. But when I knew you were coming, I felt that something must be done. I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”
“Now, isn’t that charming?” said Giles. “If I could say things like that, we shouldn’t be here to-day.”
Forsyth looked at him sharply.
“You see, Mr. Forsyth,” said Katharine, “we’ve made a hopeless mistake. We thought we’ld be happy, though married: and we were wrong. We can’t hit it off. We’ve tried like blazes, but it’s not the slightest good. In fact, the only thing we’ve agreed about for something like three months is that the sooner we part, the better for Giles and me.”