"Poor Mr. March!" cried Miss Dale. "Well, it is a pathetic case,
but it isn't the only one, if that's any comfort. Saratoga is
reeking with just such forlornities the whole summer long; but I can
quite understand how you feel about it, Mrs. March." We came to a
corner, and she said abruptly: "Excuse my interrupting your
quarrel! Not quite so LOUD, Mr. March!" and she flashed back a
mocking look at me as she skurried off down the street with
astonishing rapidity.

"How perfectly heartless!" cried my wife. "I certainly thought she
would suggest something--offer to do something."

"I relied upon her, too," I said; "but now I have my doubts whether
she was really going down that street till she saw that it was the
best way to escape. We're certainly in trouble, my dear, if people
avoid us in this manner."



CHAPTER V



"I am doing it entirely on Mrs. Deering's I account," said my wife
that evening after tea, as we walked down the side-street that
descended from our place to Broadway. "She has that girl on her
hands, and I know she must be at her wits' end."

"And I do it entirely on Deering's account," I retorted. "He has
both of those women on HIS hands."