"Why is it, Dr. Fox, that I get no answers to my letters?"
"I suppose," he answered, "that your friends are afraid you may be excited, andyour recovery retarded, by hearing from them."
"Has my—has Mr. Kenyon reported that I am insane?"
"Undoubtedly."
"False and treacherous!" she exclaimed bitterly. "Why was I ever mad enough to marry him?"
Dr. Fox shrugged his shoulders.
"Really," he said, "I couldn't pretend to explain your motives, my dear madam. Women are enigmas."
"Are my letters regularly mailed, Dr. Fox?" asked Mrs. Kenyon searchingly.
"How can you ask such a question? Do you not commit them to me?"
"So does Cleopatra," said Mrs. Kenyon, who had fallen into the habit of addressing her room-mate by the name she assumed. "Do you forward her letters to Mark Antony?"