This is what he said to himself one morning as he sat at his desk in the house which had once been his wife's.
"If I could only sell this place even at a sacrifice, I would go to Europe, taking Roland with me," he muttered. "Even as it is, perhaps it will be as well."
Mr. Kenyon looked at the morning paper, searching for the advertisement of the Cunard Line. "A steamer sails on Saturday," he read, "and it is now Tuesday. I will go to the city to-morrow and engage passage. In Europe I shall be safe. Then if my wife turns up I need not fear her."
At this point a servant—one recently engaged—came to the door of his room and informed him that a gentleman wished to see him.
"Do you know who it is?" he enquired.
"No, sir. I never saw him before."
"Bring him up, then; or, stay—is he in the parlor?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will see him there."
Mr. Kenyon came downstairs quite unprepared for the visitor who awaited him.