"Oh, I say—" he ventured quite abruptly, "Miss Woltor and I, you know,—we never went near the dentist yesterday!"
"So I inferred," I said, "from Rollins's observation. What were you doing?" Truly I didn't mean to ask, but the long- suppressed wonder most certainly slipped.
"Why we were just arguing!" groaned my Husband. "Round and round and round!"
"Round—what?" I questioned—now that the slipping had started. "Round and round the country?"
"Country, no indeed!" grinned my Husband unhappily. "We never left the place!"
"Never—left the place?" I stammered. "Why, where in Creation were you?"
"Why, first," said my Husband, "we were down at the end of the driveway right there by the acacia trees, you know. She was crying so I didn't exactly like to strike the state highway for fear somebody would notice her. And then afterward—when I saw that she really couldn't stop——"
"Crying?" I puzzled. "Ann Woltor—crying?"
"And then afterward," persisted my Husband, "we went over to the Bungalow on the Rock and commenced the argument all over again! Fortunately there was some tea there and crackers and sardines and enough firewood. But it was the devil and all getting over! We ran the car into the boat-house and took the punt! I thought the surf would smash us, but——"
"But what was the 'argument'?" I questioned.