It is not too much to say that Wally fled. He sought out his wife, who was dressing for dinner.
“Well, did you whip her?” she inquired.
He evaded that.
“I’ve had a good talk with her”—firmly.
She turned her face over her shoulder at him, and laughed.
“Terrified her, no doubt.”
“Where on earth does she get her ideas?”
“Not from me,—” indifferently.
“She’s—she’s uncanny, that kid.”