"Don't, please!" she objected, catching her breath painfully. "I was a foolish girl then, Harry. But tell me all about your--your wife. I am crazy to know." He looked involuntarily toward the window before replying; she observed the hunted look in his eyes and wondered. "There isn't much to tell. She lives in Patagonia," he said, somewhat sullenly. Then he glanced at his watch. "What! Is she a--a native?" she cried. "She was born there, but--Good Lord, you don't think she's black?" "Or even a giantess," she smiled. "She's white, of course, and she's no bigger than you, Betty. She isn't as pretty, I'll have to say that. But let's talk about something else. How am I to catch Agatha? It's imperative. 'Gad, it's life or death, Betty." "What do you mean?" she asked, startled. He swallowed painfully two or three times as he scraped the edge of the rug with his foot, looking down all the while. "Well, you see, it's this way. I've married into a rather queer family. My--my wife's most damnably jealous." "That isn't very queer, is it?" "She has a queer way of being jealous, that's all. Somehow she's got it into her head that there's another woman up here in North America." "Oh, I begin to see. And, of course, there isn't?" "Certainly not. I love my wife." "Good for you, Harry. I didn't think it of you," she said with a smile which he did not understand. "Oh, I say, Betty, you are making fun of me." "On the contrary, I'm just beginning to treat you seriously." "I suppose I owe some sort of an explanation in connection with my remark about jealousy. It's due my wife." "May I ask where she is at present?" "She's on the range in Patagonia. I--I couldn't bring her here, you know. Betty, I want you to help me with Agatha. She's got that ruby and I simply have to get it back again. I'll tell you all about--about my marriage. Perhaps you'll understand. You see, I meant to be true to Agatha. But it was so cursed lonesome down there--worse than Siberia or mid-ocean. We were surveying near the west coast--rotten country--and I met her at her father's place. You see, they raise cattle and all that sort of thing there. Her old man--I should say Mr. Grimes--is the cattle king of Patagonia. He's worth a couple of millions easy. Well, to make a long story short, we all fell in love with Pansy--the whole engineering corps--and I won out. She's the only child and she's motherless. The old man idolises her. She's fairly good-looking and--well, she's being educated by private tutors from Buenos Aires. I'm not a cad to tell you. She's pure gold in spite of her environment." "No doubt, if she's surrounded by millions."