"Why didn't you quit him, then? I would have. In a minute."
"I couldn't. You don't know."
"You could have come home. Of course there'd have been a stink-up, but——"
"I wouldn't have cared. I'd have done anything to get away from him. But he found out—about Stanley."
"Stanley? Oh, Angel-face! Dee, had you?"
"No; no! There was never any question of that between us," she said moodily. "I did meet him, though. It was accidental at first, for I never meant to see him again after I married Jim. After that we met once in a while, for walks and in places like the skating rink. That was all there was to it, but Jim found it out and used it to blackmail me and hold me to the marriage. White slave stuff, on the respectable side! But Bobs won't do anything," she added dully. "You'll see."
Pat caught her in a sudden, reassuring hug. "Leave it to me," was her commonplace but confident rejoinder to this baring of a woman's self-wrought and therefore doubly grim tragedy.
Having carefully rehearsed her form of attack upon the family physician Pat went to his bungalow.
"Why the face so solemn, Infant?" he greeted her.
"I've got something serious to say to you, Bobs."