“Have you enjoyed yourself?” he asked quietly as they drove off.
“It’s been heaven!” she answered.
Which, taken as a conversational effort, would not have won a prize. But when the atmosphere is electrical, it doesn’t much matter what is said.
“Mrs. Garling,” he went on, gravely, “when may I see you again?”
By the light of a passing lamp she saw his eyes fixed on her, and her own did not falter.
“I don’t think we’d better meet again,” she said, steadily. “My husband has rather peculiar ideas on the subject.”
“That, of course, is quite unthinkable,” he remarked. “I have never enjoyed such a wonderful evening before.”
“No more have I,” she said, staring out of the window.
She felt his hand close over hers, and for a while she made no effort to remove it. Then with a little shiver she almost snatched her hand away.
“Captain Denver,” she said, “this is folly. I must tell you that my husband is almost crazily jealous of me. If he were to know that you and I were driving home at this hour of the night in a taxi alone, I think he’d probably try to—try to kill me. It sounds incredible, but it’s the truth. He becomes like a madman if I even speak to another man; in fact, there have been times when I really believe he has been out of his senses.”