“No ... I don’t mind, Mr. McTavish.” Philip looked up suddenly. “There’s one thing you could do for me. You could send word around to the house that I’m not coming home to-night.”
A grin lighted up the big face. “Sure I will.... I’ll take the word myself.” After a pause, “Where will you go?”
“I don’t know ... somewhere.” He rose and put on Jim Baxter’s coat and hat. “I’m going down to the Flats now.”
“Your friends have been raising hell down there.”
“Yes ... that’s why I want to go down there now.... They’ll think I’m dead.”
“No ... they won’t think that. That Dago friend ... Krylenko ... is that his name? He’s been asking for you, and Mary Watts ... Mary Conyngham she is now, she’s been asking, too ... almost every day.”
He must have seen the sudden light come into Philip’s eye, for he said suddenly, turning to the window, “There’s a good girl ... a brave one, too.”
“Yes,” said Philip.
“She’s the kind of a wife a man ought to have. There aren’t many like her.”
“No.”