“Quite right; but I had no idea you were going out,” Calhoun-Cooper hesitated. “However, I will not keep you long. Can you tell me who are Joe’s associates in Washington?”
His wife stirred uneasily. “Do you mean men or girls?”
“Both.”
“Pauline’s friends and mine are his associates,” with an abruptness equal to his own.
“Are you quite sure, Augusta?” She changed color under the peculiar emphasis of his voice.
“Quite; Joe has been most exemplary in his behavior,” she saw a further question trembling on his lips and forestalled it. “You are never fair to Joe; you take everyone’s word against his. Joe has the making of a splendid man if you didn’t hector him so continuously. Give the boy a chance.”
“I have spent years doing it,” Calhoun-Cooper sighed. “Unfortunately Augusta, what you term a ‘chance’ and I term an ‘opportunity’ are not synonymous.”
“Your ‘opportunity’ spells work, I presume,” and his wife frowned. “You never recollect Joe’s delicate lungs.”
“Delicate fiddlesticks!” interrupted her exasperated husband. “Too much smoking....”
“There you go again,” the ready tears filled Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper’s eyes. “Believing tales because you want to....”