“One afternoon I stood outside of a window of an apartment house when I knew she was inside, and I knew the name of the man who was supposed to occupy it, only he had re-sublet it, as I found out afterwards. And she had Janet with her—think of that!—our own little girl! I saw her come to the window once to look out—I actually saw her in another man’s rooms. I ran up and hammered at the door—I tried to break it open. I called to her to come out but she wouldn’t, and I went to get a policeman to make him open the door. But when I got back a servant was coming up as though she had been out, and she unlocked the door and went in. It was all a ruse, and I know it. They weren’t inside. She had slipped out with Janet. And she had told me they were going to Westchester for the day. “And another time I followed her to a restaurant when she said she was going to visit a friend. I suspected there was a man—the man I thought she was going with, but it was some one I had never seen before. When they came out and were getting into a cab I came up and told them both what I thought of them. I threatened to kill them both. And she told him to go and then came home with me, but I couldn’t do anything with her. She wouldn’t talk to me. All she would say was that if I didn’t like the way she was doing I could let her go. She wanted me to give her a divorce. And I couldn’t let her go, even if I had wanted to. I loved her too much. And I love her too much now. I do. I can’t help it.” He paused. The pain and regret were moving. “Another time,” he went on, “I followed her to a hotel—yes, to a hotel. But when I got inside she was waiting for me; she had seen me. I even saw a man coming toward her—but not the one I believed was the one—only when he saw me he turned away and I couldn’t be sure that he was there to meet her. And when I tried to talk to her about him she turned away from me and we went back home in silence. I couldn’t do anything with her. She would sit and read and ignore me for days—days, I tell you—without ever a word.” “Yes,” I said, “but the folly of all that. The uselessness, the hopelessness. How could you?”