Dr. Leonard rubbed his bristly face irritably.
"I've been to see him—it seemed I ought to—I was the only one who
WOULD in the whole world—the only one to speak a word to him."
"That makes it worse," the dentist commented depressingly. "I don't know as you could get free now if you wanted to. You've put your hand to the plough again, my girl, and it's a long furrow."
"What do you mean?"
"The hospital folks know you're his wife, and they'll expect you to take him in when he gets better."
"I suppose so," Mrs. Preston admitted. "But I suppose, anyway, I should take care of him until he can go away."
Dr. Leonard threw up his hands in disgust.
"Alves, why don't you go straight off and get a divorce—for desertion?"
Mrs. Preston opened the heavy lids of her eyes; her face slowly flushed.
"That would be the end of it?" she asked, in a low voice.