Mrs. Boatwright soberly considered the problem.
“It looks like nineteen hundred all over again,” Boatwright muttered huskily, without looking up.
“No,” said Doane, “it won't be the same. The only thing we positively know is that history never repeats itself. We'll take it as it comes.” He didn't see Mrs. Boatwright's sharp eyes taking him in as he said this. “I'll leave you now.”
“Just this other matter,” said the wife, more briskly. “I won't keep you long. But I don't feel free to handle the situation in my own way, and—well, something must be done.”
“You see,” said the husband, “there's a man here—a queer American—he turned up—”
“Elmer!” the wife interrupted, “if you will let me.... It is a man your daughter met on the ship coming out, Mr. Doane. Evidently a case of infatuation....”
“He is a journalist—has written works on British administration in India, I believe—”
“Elmer! Please! The fact is, the man has deliberately followed Betty out here. There is some understanding between them—something that should be got at. The man is married. Betty admits that—she seems to be intimately in his confidence. He came rushing out here without so much as a passport. Elmer has had to give up a good deal of time to setting him right at Pao's yamen. I very properly refused to accept him here as a guest, whereupon Hetty got word to him secretly and they have been meeting—”
“Out in the tennis court!”
“Last night I found them there myself. I sent him away, and brought Betty in.”