"What's the matter with you?" Tietjens' eyes were bloodshot.
"I tell you," Tietjens said, "I'm waiting for a wire from Sylvia."
Macmaster said:
"Oh!" And then: "It can't come to-night, it's getting on for one."
"It can," Tietjens said, "I've fixed it up with the postmaster—all the way up to Town! It probably won't come because Sylvia won't send it until the last moment, to bother me. None the less I'm waiting for a wire from Sylvia, and this is what I look like."
Macmaster said:
"That woman's the cruellest beast . . ."
"You might," Tietjens interrupted, "remember that you're talking about my wife."
"I don't see," Macmaster said, "how one can talk about Sylvia without . . ."
"The line is a perfectly simple one to draw," Tietjens said. "You can relate a lady's actions if you know them and are asked to. You mustn't comment. In this case you don't know the lady's actions even, so you may as well hold your tongue." He sat looking straight in front of him.