CHAPTER VIII. “There’s twenty before you, and Mr. They don’t count, and I don’t care. “Um, he took me to the Big Apple. After the sights he would have to twiddle his thumbs until the joints cracked. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. "Well," she said, as they reached the hotel portal, "what is your advice?" "Would you follow it?" "Probably not.
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