“Yep. Right now. And then sometime we’ll see about the future.” “What do you mean, dear, ‘about the future’? Have I done something I oughtn’t to? Oh, I’m so dreadfully sorry!” He resolutely put his hands behind him. “Not a thing, God bless you, not a thing. You’re as good as they make ’em. But it’s just-- Good Lord, do you realize I’ve got things to do in the world? I’ve got a business to attend to and, you might not believe it, but I’ve got a wife and kids that I’m awful fond of!” Then only during the murder he was committing was he able to feel nobly virtuous. “I want us to be friends but, gosh, I can’t go on this way feeling I _got_ to come up here every so often--” “Oh, darling, darling, and I’ve always told you, so carefully, that you were absolutely free. I just wanted you to come around when you were tired and wanted to talk to me, or when you could enjoy our parties--” She was so reasonable, she was so gently right! It took him an hour to make his escape, with nothing settled and everything horribly settled. In a barren freedom of icy Northern wind he sighed, “Thank God that’s over! Poor Tanis, poor darling decent Tanis! But it is over. Absolute! I’m free!” CHAPTER XXXII I His wife was up when he came in. “Did you have a good time?” she sniffed. “I did not. I had a rotten time! Anything else I got to explain?” “George, how can you speak like-- Oh, I don’t know what’s come over you!” “Good Lord, there’s nothing come over me! Why do you look for trouble all the time?” He was warning himself, “Careful! Stop being so disagreeable. Course she feels it, being left alone here all evening.” But he forgot his warning as she went on: “Why do you go out and see all sorts of strange people? I suppose you’ll say you’ve been to another committee-meeting this evening!” “Nope. I’ve been calling on a woman. We sat by the fire and kidded each other and had a whale of a good time, if you want to know!” “Well-- From the way you say it, I suppose it’s my fault you went there! I probably sent you!” “You did!” “Well, upon my word--” “You hate ‘strange people’ as you call ’em. If you had your way, I’d be as much of an old stick-in-the-mud as Howard Littlefield. You never want to have anybody with any git to ’em at the house; you want a bunch of old stiffs that sit around and gas about the weather. You’re doing your level best to make me old. Well, let me tell you, I’m not going to have--” Overwhelmed she bent to his unprecedented tirade, and in answer she mourned: “Oh, dearest, I don’t think that’s true. I don’t mean to make you old, I know. Perhaps you’re partly right. Perhaps I am slow about getting acquainted with new people. But when you think of all the dear good times we have, and the supper-parties and the movies and all--”