“Mother dearest, are you getting tired?” She denied it, but he said, “She is tired,” and we talked no more that afternoon.
III
Shortly before dinner that night I picked up a pencil again, and “Mary Kendal” was immediately written. It had become customary for her to write her name both at the beginning and at the end of her communication, probably to avoid confusion with Frederick.
“Manse is in New York,” she told us, repeating it several times. For some reason I questioned this, and she said: “You must not doubt. He is coming to-night.”
“Are you happy, Mary?” Cass asked.
“Very, especially now, since I am with you. You can reach Manzie.”
Keenly sympathizing with her eagerness to reach her husband, from whom no word had come, he suggested telephoning to Mansfield at his club, but I demurred, feeling that, if he were there, he would receive my letters and communicate with us, unless, as I began to fear, he preferred not to approach the subject in any way. Repeatedly, however, Mary insisted “Call him up,” and Cass put in the long-distance call accordingly.
“He is there.... He will answer,” she reiterated again and again, while we waited.