Mildred went into the living room.
"Gene," she said, with that indifference of tone which a woman employs toward a man she despises, "I'm going down to mail this."
"Well, I'll swear!" he quarrelled sullenly. "Been in there all this time writing to him!"
"Yes! Look at it!" she taunted viciously, and waved the envelope before his eyes. "Sloanehurst!"
Taking up his hat, he went with her to the elevator.
II
THE WOMAN ON THE LAWN
Mr. Jefferson Hastings, unsuspecting that he was about to be confronted with the most brutal crime in all his experience, regretted having come to "Sloanehurst." He disapproved of himself unreservedly. Clad in an ample, antique night-shirt, he stood at a window of the guest-room assigned to him and gazed over the steel rims of his spectacles into the hot, rainy night. His real vision, however, made no attempt to pierce the outer darkness. His eyes were turned inward, upon himself, in derision of his behaviour during the past three hours.