“Yes.” Her voice trembled, but she held her head high. “It seems as though all the women in Nome were here and in league to ignore me. It dazes me—I do not understand.”
“Has anybody said anything to you?” he inquired, fiercely. “Any man, I mean?”
“No, no! The men are kind. It’s the women.”
“Come—we’ll go home.”
“Indeed, we will not,” she said, proudly. “I shall stay and face it out. I have done nothing to run away from, and I intend to find out what is the matter.”
When he had surrendered her, at the beginning of the next dance, McNamara sought for some acquaintance whom he might question. Most of the men in Nome either hated or feared him, but he espied one that he thought suited his purpose, and led him into a corner.
“I want you to answer a question. No beating about the bush. Understand? I’m blunt, and I want you to be.”
“All right.”
“Your wife has been entertained at Miss Chester’s house. I’ve seen her there. To-night she refuses to speak to the girl. She cut her dead, and I want to know what it’s about.”
“How should I know?”