CHAPTER XIII
When Alfred Hardy found himself on the train bound for Detroit, he triedto assure himself that he had done the right thing in breaking awayfrom an association that had kept him for months in a constant state offerment. His business must come first, he decided. Having settled thispoint to his temporary satisfaction, he opened his afternoon paperand leaned back in his seat, meaning to divert his mind from personalmatters, by learning what was going on in the world at large.
No sooner had his eye scanned the first headline than he was startled bya boisterous greeting from a fellow traveller, who was just passing downthe aisle.
"Hello, Hardy!" cried his well meaning acquaintance. "Where are youbound for?"
"Detroit," answered Alfred, annoyed by the sudden interruption.
"Where's the missus?" asked the intruder.
"Chicago," was Alfred's short reply.
"THAT'S a funny thing," declared the convivial spirit, not guessing howfunny it really was. "You know," he continued, so loud that everyone inthe vicinity could not fail to hear him, "the last time I met you two,you were on your honeymoon--on THIS VERY TRAIN," and with that thefellow sat himself down, uninvited, by Alfred's side and started on along list of compliments about "the fine little girl" who had in hisopinion done Alfred a great favour when she consented to tie herself toa "dull, money-grubbing chap" like him.
"So," thought Alfred, "this is the way the world sees us." And he beganto frame inaudible but desperate defences of himself. Again he toldhimself that he was right; but his friend's thoughtless words hadplanted an uncomfortable doubt in his mind, and when he left thetrain to drive to his hotel, he was thinking very little about the newbusiness relations upon which he was entering in Detroit, and very muchabout the domestic relations which he had just severed in Chicago.
Had he been merely a "dull money-grubber"? Had he left his wife too muchalone? Was she not a mere child when he married her? Could he not, withmore consideration, have made of her a more understanding companion?These were questions that were still unanswered in his mind when hearrived at one of Detroit's most enterprising hotels.
But later, having telephoned to his office and found that severalmatters of importance were awaiting his decision, he forced himself toenter immediately upon his business obligations.
As might have been expected, Alfred soon won the respect and seriousconsideration of most of his new business associates, and this in ameasure so mollified his hurt pride, that upon rare occasions he wasaffable enough to accept the hospitality of their homes. But eachexcursion that he made into the social life of these new friends, onlyserved to remind him of the unsettled state of his domestic affairs.
"How your wife must miss you!" his hostess would remark before they werefairly seated at table.
"They tell me she is so pretty," his vis-a-vis would exclaim.
"When is she going to join you?" the lady on his left would ask.
Then his host would laugh and tell the "dear ladies" that in HISopinion, Alfred was afraid to bring his wife to Detroit, lest he mightlose her to a handsomer man.
Alfred could never quite understand why remarks such as this annoyed himalmost to the point of declaring the whole truth. His LEAVING Zoie, andhis "losing" her, as these would-be comedians expressed it, weretwo separate and distinct things in his mind, and he felt an almostirresistible desire to make this plain to all concerned.
But no sooner did he open his lips to do so, than a picture of Zoie inall her child-like pleading loveliness, arose to dissuade him. He couldimagine his dinner companions all pretending to sympathise with him,while they flayed poor Zoie alive. She would never have another chanceto be known as a respectable woman, and compared to most women ofhis acquaintance, she WAS a respectable woman. True, according toold-fashioned standards, she had been indiscreet, but apparently thepresent day woman had a standard of her own. Alfred found his eyewandering round the table surveying the wives of his friends. Was thereone of them, he wondered, who had never fibbed to her husband, or eatena simple luncheon unchaperoned by him? Of one thing he was certain,there was not one of them so attractive as Zoie. Might she not beforgiven, to some extent, if her physical charms had made her a sourceof dangerous temptation to unprincipled scoundrels like the one withwhom she had no doubt lunched? Then, too, had she not offered at themoment of his departure to tell him the "real truth"? Might this nothave been the one occasion upon which she would have done so? "She seemedso sincere," he ruminated, "so truly penitent." Then again, how generousit was of her to persist in writing to him with never an answer fromhim to encourage her. If she cared for him so little as he had onceimagined, why should she wish to keep up even a presence of fondness?Her letters indicated an undying devotion.
These were some of the thoughts that were going through Alfred's mindjust three months after his departure from Chicago, and all the whilehis hostess was mentally dubbing him a "dull person."
"What an abstracted man he is!" she said before he was down the frontsteps.
"Is he really so clever in business?" a woman friend inquired.
"It's hard to believe, isn't it?" commented a third, and his hostapologised for the absent Alfred by saying that he was no doubt worriedabout a particular business decision that had to be made the nextmorning.
But it was not the responsibility of this business decision that wasknotting Alfred's brow, as he walked hurriedly toward the hotel, wherehe had told his office boy to leave the last mail. This had beenthe longest interval that Zoie had ever let slip without writing. Herecalled that her last letters had hinted at a "slight indisposition."In fact, she had even mentioned "seeing the doctor"--"Good Heavens!" hethought, "Suppose she were really ill? Who would look after her?"
When Alfred reached his rooms, the boy had not yet arrived. He crossedto the library table and took from the drawer all the letters thus farreceived from Zoie. He read them consecutively. "How could he have beenso stupid as not to have realised sooner that her illness--whatever itwas--had been gradually creeping upon her from the very first day of hisdeparture?"
The boy arrived with the mail. It contained no letter from Zoie andAlfred went to bed with an uneasy mind.
The next morning he was down at his office early, still no letter fromZoie.
Refusing his partner's invitation to lunch, Alfred sat alone in hisoffice, glad to be rid of intrusive eyes. "He would write to JimmyJinks," he decided, "and find out whether Zoie were in any immediatedanger."
Not willing to await the return of his stenographer, or to acquaint herwith his personal affairs, Alfred drew pen and paper toward him and sathelplessly before it. How could he inquire about Zoie without appearingto invite a reconciliation with her? While he was trying to answerthis vexed question, a sharp knock came at the door. He turned to see auniformed messenger holding a telegram toward him. Intuitively he feltthat it contained some word about Zoie. His hand trembled so that hecould scarcely sign for the message before opening it.
A moment later the messenger boy was startled out of his lethargy by asuccession of contradictory exclamations.
"No!" cried Alfred incredulously as he gazed in ecstasy at the telegram."Yes!" he shouted, excitedly, as he rose from his chair. "Where's atime table?" he asked the astonished boy, and he began rummaging rapidlythrough the drawers of his desk.
"Any answer?" inquired the messenger.
"Take this," said Alfred. And he thrust a bill into the small boy'shand.
"Yes, sir," answered the boy and disappeared quickly, lest this madmanmight reconsider his generosity.
Alfred threw down the time table in despair. "No train for Chicago untilnight," he cried; but his mind was working fast. The next moment he wasat the telephone, asking for the Division Superintendent of the railwayline.
When Alfred's partner returned from luncheon he found a curt noteinforming him that Alfred had left on a special for Chicago and would"write."
"I'll bet it's his wife!" said the partner.
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