platform of the Mansion House Station, where it is always draughty,
the thought of his wrongs returned to him with renewed force. Why was
there no trace of doglike devotion about Mrs. Korner? The fault--so
he bitterly told himself--the fault was his. "A woman loves her
master; it is her instinct," mused Mr. Korner to himself. "Damme,"
thought Mr. Korner, "I don't believe that half her time she knows I am
her master."

"Go away," said Mr. Korner to a youth of pasty appearance who, with
open mouth, had stopped immediately in front of him.

"I'm fond o' listening," explained the pasty youth.

"Who's talking?" demanded Mr. Korner.

"You are," replied the pasty youth.

It is a long journey from the city to Ravenscourt Park, but the task
of planning out the future life of Mrs. Korner and himself kept Mr.
Korner wide awake and interested. When he got out of the train the
thing chiefly troubling him was the three-quarters of a mile of muddy
road stretching between him and his determination to make things clear
to Mrs. Korner then and there.

The sight of Acacia Villa, suggesting that everybody was in bed and
asleep, served to further irritate him. A dog-like wife would have
been sitting up to see if there was anything he wanted. Mr. Korner,
acting on the advice of his own brass plate, not only knocked but also
rang. As the door did not immediately fly open, he continued to knock
and ring. The window of the best bedroom on the first floor opened.