"Possibly. My highest aim at present is to see my wife perfectly happy."
"Ah, that's the point. And, as we both want the same thing, there will be no difficulty in joining forces and accomplishing it."
"I fail to see how you can help to those results," remarked Thurston, far from being infected with the same friendly spirit of co-operation.
"That's what I came to tell you," said Glen, boyishly. "I'm the only one who really understands Indiana. I know how to get at her true feelings better than all her folks put together." Thurston half smiled at this assertion, which frankly ignored him—the husband. Glen puffed his cigarette, thoughtfully, watching the rings of smoke, as they widened and disappeared. "I saw the end of it from the first," he continued, in a superior tone. "Like all young girls, Indy wanted something new. I'm not blaming her—but—she's not happy. She never can be happy, away from her own home and people."
"Are you here as my wife's ambassador?" asked Thurston, icily.
"Well, no, not exactly," responded Glen, uneasily. "But she didn't object, when I told her I was going to have it out with you."
"It will be interesting to know what your intentions are against me."
"I—I want to tell you the thing don't work—I don't see how you could expect it. I want, in a perfectly open and straightforward way, to discuss the means to the desired end—her happiness."
Thurston smiled wearily. "This would all be very farcical if there were not a very serious question for me at the root of it, and which my wife's conduct to-night has made me realize very keenly. I suppose she was discussing me, during your rather unconventional hansom-ride this evening?"
"Yes, she was—and—er—not favorably. Now, what do you propose to do?"