"Get your furs on!"
"Do you wish me to go home, Cary?"
"Yes. Good God! What do you suppose I came here for?"
She walked over to Desboro and held out her hand:
"No wonder women like you. Good-bye—and if I come again—may I remain?"
"Don't come," he said, smiling, and holding her coat for her.
Clydesdale strode forward, took the fur garment from Desboro's hands, and held it open. His wife looked up at him, shrugged her shoulders, and suffered him to invest her with the coat.
After a moment Desboro said:
"Clydesdale, I am not your enemy. I wish you good luck."
"You go to hell," said Clydesdale thickly.