"I've met few men so eager for full membership in the Alimony Club. What's your hurry?"
"Oh, I don't know." Which was largely truth unveneered. "I'd like to get it over and done with."
"You might advertise—offer a suitable reward for information concerning the whereabouts of one docile and dormant divorce suit—"
"I might, but you'd never earn it."
"Doubtless. I've long since learned never to expect any reward commensurate with my merits."
Ember pushed back his chair and, rising, strolled to the door. "Moonrise and a fine, clear night," he said, staring through the wire mesh of the screen. "Wish you were well enough to go riding with me. However, you won't be laid up long, I fancy. And I'll be back day after to-morrow. Now I must cut along."
And within ten minutes Whitaker heard the motor-car rumble off on the woodland road.
He wasn't altogether sorry to be left to his own society. He was, in fact, rather sharp-set for the freedom of solitude, that he might pursue one or two self-appointed tasks without interruption.
For one of these Sum Fat, not without wonder, furnished him materials: canvas, stout thread, scissors, a heavy needle, a bit of beeswax: with which Whitaker purposed manufacturing an emergency ankle-strap. And at this task he laboured diligently and patiently for the better part of two hours, with a result less creditable to his workmanship than to a nature integrally sunny and prone to see the bright side of things. Whitaker himself, examining the finished product with a prejudiced eye, was fain to concede its crudity. It was not pretty, but he believed fatuously in its efficiency.
His other task was purely one of self-examination. Since afternoon he had found reason gravely to doubt the stability of his emotional poise. He had of late been in the habit of regarding himself as one whose mind retained no illusions; a bit prematurely aged, perhaps, but wise with a wisdom beyond his years; no misogynist, but comfortably woman-proof; a settled body and a sedate, contemplating with an indulgent smile the futile antics of a mad, mad world. But now he was being reminded that no man is older than his heart, and that the heart is a headstrong member, apt to mutiny without warning and proclaim a youth quite inconsistent with the years and the mentality of its possessor. In fine, he could not be blind to the fact that he was in grave danger of making an ass of himself if he failed to guide himself with unwonted circumspection.