Joe gave a great sigh, and resumed his despondent attitude, nervously playing with the paper-cutter.
“Eric, perhaps there are men who love their wives better than I do mine, but I am completely wrapped up in Lillian, and if I lost her I’d go to the dogs devilish quick.
“You know my nature—I’m not a suspicious fool, nor am I constitutionally jealous, but I suppose I have a certain amount of the latter in my disposition—every man but an idiot has.”
“That’s so. Remember Othello’s declaration about keeping a corner in the object of his love for other people’s uses. I reckon that’s the first corner we have any record of.”
Joe’s face had flushed at the reference made by his companion.
“As heaven is my judge I do not wish to harbor any unjust suspicion toward my wife—I would shield her with my life from the folly of her imprudence, if such it prove to be—but I am a man, and I cannot shut my eyes to certain facts set before me. I have done everything in my power to explain the matter to myself, offering all sorts of excuses for her, but it is useless, and I feel now that I must know the truth or go crazy.”
“My dear fellow, this is indeed serious.”
“Serious, Eric—may you never know the awful feeling that has pressed upon my heart during the last few weeks.”
“Has it been that long?”