"But what now?" pressed von Klausen. "See: you give no reason."
"He was queer. His manner—I don't know. Only I had not promised to go home in three weeks."
"No?"
"He had said a month, and I had said 'Perhaps.'"
Von Klausen smiled.
"We men interpret as 'Yes' a lady's 'Perhaps.'"
"Not Jim. And he hadn't told me that he wrote to those people in Lyons and asked them if they weren't going to buy the machinery."
"Why should he? In your country husbands do not tell their wives of business. I know that; surely you should know it better."
"That business wasn't like him."
"It was very—shrewd. My dear Muriel, you must not thus vex yourself. Why should I not be here? What wrong do I? Besides, the American married man is not jealous. I have heard of one in Washington who found his wife in his friend's arms and said only, 'Naughty, naughty! Flirting once more!'"