"I dismissed him?"
"You wrote to him, didn't you?"
"Celia," cried Elmore, "this I cannot bear. Did I take a single step in that business without her request and your full approval? Didn't you both ask me to write?"
"Yes, I suppose we did."
"Suppose?"
"Well, we did,—if you want me to say it. And I'm not accusing you of anything. I know you acted for the best. But you can see yourself, can't you, that it was rather sudden to have it end so quickly—"
She did not finish her sentence, or he did not hear the close in the miserable absence into which he lapsed. "Celia," he asked at last, "do you think she—she had any feeling about him?"
"Oh," cried his wife restively, "how should I know?"
"I didn't suppose you knew," he pleaded. "I asked if you thought so."
"What would be the use of thinking anything about it? The matter can't be helped now. If you inferred from anything she said to you—"