He waited with the genial smile of a famous man; the smile froze at Lathrop's curt, "Don't think so."
He tried again: "Ever hear of well-known Chicago belle, Mrs. Jimmie Wellington?"
"Yes, I've heard of her!" There was an ominous grin in the tone.
Wellington waved his hand with modest pride. "Well, I'm Jimmie."
"Serves you right."
This jolt was so discourteous that Wellington decided to protest: "Mister Latham!"
"Lathrop!"
The name came out with a whip-snap. He tried to echo it, "La-throp!" "I don't like that Throp. That's a kind of a seasick name, isn't it?" Finding the newspaper still intervening between him and his prey, he calmly tore it down the middle and pushed through it like a moon coming through a cloud. "But a man can't change his name by marrying, can he? That's the worst of it. A woman can. Think of a heartless cobra di capello in woman's form wearing my fair name—and wearing it out. Mr. La-throp, did you ever put your trust in a false-hearted woman?"
"Never put my trust in anybody."
"Didn't you ever love a woman?"