“'Darling, so lonesome without you. Cried all day. When are you coming home to your wee sad wifie? Love and kisses. Zoie.'” Tearing the defenceless telegram into bits, Alfred threw it from him and waited for his friend's verdict.
“She sent that over the wire?” gasped Jimmy.
“Oh, that's nothing,” answered Alfred. “That's a mild one.” And he selected another from the same pocket. “Here, listen to this. This is what she REALLY did. This is from my secretary the same night.”
“You spied upon her!” asked Jimmy, feeling more and more convinced that his own deceptions would certainly be run to earth.
“I HAVE to spy upon her,” answered Alfred, “in self-defence. It's the only way I can keep her from making me utterly ridiculous.” And he proceeded to read from the secretary's telegram. “'Shopped all morning. Lunched at Martingale's with man and woman unknown to me—Martingale's,'” he repeated with a sneer—“'Motored through Park with Mrs. Wilmer until five.' Mrs. Wilmer,” he exclaimed, “there's a woman I've positively forbidden her to speak to.”
Jimmy only shook his head and Alfred continued to read.
“'Had tea with Mr. and Mrs. Thompson and young Ardesley at the Park View.' Ardesley is a young cub,” explained Alfred, “who spends his time running around with married women while their husbands are away trying to make a living for them.”
“Shocking!” was the extent of Jimmy's comment, and Alfred resumed reading.
“'Dinner and theatre same party. Supper at Wellingford. Home two A. M.'” He looked at Jimmy, expecting to hear Zoie bitterly condemned. Jimmy only stared at him blankly. “That's pretty good,” commented Alfred, “for the woman who 'CRIED' all day, isn't it?”
Still Jimmy made no answer, and Alfred brought his fist down upon the table impatiently. “Isn't it?” he repeated.