"What's the trouble?" It took some effort to keep the ironical out of his voice. What a queer little mole! he thought. He hadn't noticed it before.
She let her hands fall. "I'm in the most horribly embarrassing situation," she panted. She clasped her hands on her knees and the fingers began to snarl and twist, as they will when a body is under great mental stress. "You won't mind if I stay here a few minutes?"
"Not in the least, provided you give me an idea what's happened to drive you into this room." Mathison put both hands into the side-pockets of his coat.
"Couldn't it be possible to stay without explaining?" she pleaded.
Not a sign that she had been in this room less than half an hour gone. What was her game? Mathison, from the ironical spirit, passed into one of bewilderment. Her voice wasn't quite the same, either; it was higher, thinner. He was giving her rope, but so far she wasn't making any especial effort to gather it in. Very well; he would continue to play up to her lead and see where it led. But stretch his imagination to its fullest, he could not figure out what her game was.
He answered her query. "Supposing you were found here? I don't object, mind you; only, I'd like to know how to act should occasion arise."
"I ... I don't know how to begin! It will sound so silly and futile!" she faltered. Her gaze roved rather wildly about. "My husband ... he has the most violent temper and is most insanely jealous. Somehow he learned I was here—in the restaurant. I saw him as he entered the main entrance. I tried to slip out at the side ... but I was not quick enough. By this time he will have had the whole hotel by the ears. Oh, it is degrading—shameful!" The woman turned her head against her shoulder and closed her eyes. Mathison noted the plain gold band among the gems on her fingers. "I haven't done anything wrong. I like amusement; I like clothes.... I can't stand it much longer!... He keeps me shut up all the time. What's the good of clothes if you can't wear them? I can't go anywhere, I can't do anything! I wish I were dead!"
Maddening! He wanted to take hold of her and shake her. But he said, soothingly: "You don't wish that. You ought not to have run away."
"I know, but I couldn't stand a scene among all those people. I see now I've only made it worse by running!... I got into the parlor somehow. Then I saw the fire-escape. I stepped out and closed the window, but I found I didn't dare drop twelve feet or more to the sidewalk."
Mathison nodded. There was nothing else to do.