"I ask you not go to. I forbid it."
"Law, Marcia!"
"I forbid it," repeated the woman. "Drop this matter for a day or two, Elisha. Mr. Heath shall not leave the house. I promise you that. I will give you my bond. Leave him here in peace until he is well again. When he is able to—to—go with you I will telephone. You can trust me. When have I ever been false to my word?"
"Never, Marcia! Never in all the years I've known you."
"Then go and leave the affair in my hands."
"I don't know—mebbe—I wonder if I'd oughter," ruminated Elisha. "'Tain't legal."
"No matter."
"I don't see why the mischief you're so crazy to stand 'twixt this Heath chap an' justice, Marcia. The feller's a scoundrel. That's what he is—an out an' out scoundrel. Not only is he a thief but he's a married man who's plottin' behind your back to betray you—boastin' openly in telegrams he is."
"What do you mean?"