Then, he swore a little. He would be no-matter-what-ed if he could make out women’s fantasies. He supposed this was a fancy sketch, an impersonal rigmarole, altogether, but it was no-matter-what-ed (again) disagreeable stuff for a fellow to read who recollected that he had ridden away last October from a dry-eyed wife into the burning heart of such a wood as was here described. He did not remember turning under the maple tree, it was true—if indeed there were a maple tree at the top of the hill. There might be some mistake in the whole thing, but it went against a fellow’s grain to admit the possibility that his wife had another man even in the eye of her imagination.
He renewed the business of collecting the scattered papers. He would read no more poetry to-night, but an unsealed law envelope, without address, lay under the armchair. It was white and fresh, and the folds of the instrument inclosed were crisp with newness. He pulled it out:
“Memorandum of Agreement made this 6th Day of August, 188—, between Agnes Welles Ashe of New York City, and Rhine, Rhone & Co., Publishers of New York City.
“Said Agnes Welles Ashe being the author and proprietor of a work entitled, ‘The Story of Walter King, By John C. Hart,’ in consideration of the covenants and stipulation, etc., etc., etc.”
The shock cleared the lawyer’s head on the instant. He perused the document to signatures, seals, and witnesses, refolded and restored it to the envelope, put it back into the portfolio, and the portfolio into the escritoire, turned the key in the lock and took his stand upon the rug, his hands behind his back, his back to the fire. His face was purple, his eyes glared.
“So much for marrying a literary woman! They are a bad lot!”
He spat it out viciously and a bitter, sounding oath after it.
The door-bell rang loudly, attended by the sound of stamping feet upon the mat outside. The master of the house answered the summons. The family physician crowded in past him, pulling off his overcoat as he came.
“How is she?” he demanded, without preamble.
“She! Who?”