They remained utterly innocent in thought and deed, merely loved and longed and renounced so very hard that their poor young hearts almost broke.
Not so the "old man."
It happened, in the autumn of that year, that he brought his wife to New York, in whose Wall Street he had intricate interests. He learned that she was by way of seeing more of Arthur than a girl of eighteen married to a man of nearly fifty ought to see. He did not at once burst into coarse abuse of her, but, worldly-wise, set detectives to watch her. He had, you may say, set his heart upon her guilt. To learn that she was utterly innocent enraged him. One day he had the following conversation with a Mr. May, of a private detective bureau:
"You followed them?"
"To the park."
"Well?"
"They bought a bag of peanuts and fed the squirrels."
"Go on."
"Then they rode in a swan-boat. Then they walked up to the reservoir and around it. Then they came back to the hotel."
"Did they separate in the office?"