"Where are you, Benis?"
"Here."
Spence closed the door. His brief anger was swallowed up in something else. Never, even in France, had he seen John look like this.
"We're a precious pair of dupes!" began John in a high voice and without preliminaries. "Prize idiots—imbeciles!"
"Very likely," said Benis. "But you're not talking to New York."
He made no move to take the paper which John held out in a shaking hand.
"What is the matter with you?" he asked sternly.
"What's the matter with me? Oh, nothing. What's the matter with all of us? Crazy—that's all! Here—read it! It's from Desire. Must have posted it last night."
Spence put the letter aside.
"If you have news, you had better tell it. That is if you can talk in an ordinary voice."