"Then what am I to do?"
"Have a cigar," said Kitson.
He took two from his vest pocket and handed one to his companion, and his shrewd old eyes twinkled.
"It's years and years since I read a romantic story," he said, "and I haven't followed the trend of modern literature very closely, but I think that your job is to sail in and make the lady love you."
Beale jumped to his feet.
"Do you mean that? Pshaw! It's absurd! It's ridiculous! She would never love me."
"I don't see why anybody should, least of all your wife," said Kitson, "but it would certainly simplify matters."
"And then?"
"Marry her all over again," said Kitson, sending a big ring of smoke into the air, "there's no law against it. You can marry as many times as you like, providing you marry the same woman."
"But, suppose—suppose she loves somebody else?" asked Beale hoarsely.