She threw her soiled fan on the table.
“If I do,” she answered, “you are not the one to sit there and reproach me with it, are you?”
“It’s gone far enough, anyway,” John Dory said. “It’s gone further than I meant it to go. Understand me, Maud—it’s finished! I’ll find your old sweetheart for myself.”
She laughed heartily.
“You needn’t trouble,” she answered, with a little toss of the head. “I am not such a fool as you seem to think me. Mr. Ruff has made an appointment with him.”
There was a change in John Dory’s face. The man’s eyes were bright—they almost glittered.
“You mean that your friend Mr. Ruff is going to produce Spencer Fitzgerald?” he exclaimed.
“He has promised to,” she answered. “John,” she declared, throwing herself into an easy-chair, “I feel horrid about it. I wonder what Mr. Ruff will think when he knows!”
“You can feel how you like,” John Dory answered bluntly, “so long as I get the handcuffs on Spencer Fitzgerald’s wrists!”
She shuddered. She looked at her husband with distaste.