"Yes," he answered.
"Then," continued Monte, "it does n't seem to me that you are going about it in just the right way. Waving pistols and throwing fits—"
"I was mad, I tell you," Hamilton broke in.
"Admitting that," resumed Monte, "I should think the best thing you could do would be to go away and sober up."
"Go away?"
"I would. I'd go a long way—to Japan or India."
The old mad light came back to Hamilton's eyes.
"Did she ask you to tell me that?"
"No," answered Monte; "it is my own idea. Because, you see, if you don't go she'll have to."
"What do you mean?"