“Mrs. Cool, I swear to you by all that’s holy that—”
“Save that for your wife,” Bertha said. “Give me the lowdown. Never mind that swearing business.”
“I tell you, Mrs. Cool, it’s a dastardly, lying insinuation, a—”
“What’s the insinuation?”
“That the maid’s in love with me, or I’m in love with her, or we’re both in love, and that she got the job in order to be near me.”
“Good-looking?” Bertha asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you spoken to her about this letter?”
“No. I can’t get in touch with her.”
“Why not?”