"Sometimes I hate this damned business and feel that I'd like to chuck it altogether ... but what's a man to do after he's given the best years of his life to one thing? It takes a long time to get established in any profession, nowadays ... and I'm getting older every day.... I'm sorry I was ugly ... _my_ nerves are a bit frazzled, too ... but I'll be all right, now that you and I understand each other ... come, now ... let's forget it.... Come in the bath-room and bathe your eyes. I've ordered a nice little dinner and a bottle of fizz; it'll buck you up. Then, before I go to the performance, we'll outline some plan of action...." "What do you want me to do?" I asked, as I came out of the bath-room a little later. CHAPTER XIII When I entered the room I had no intention of engaging in a slanging match. I had telephoned my coming and her sister was awaiting me. I felt almost sorry for the girl standing beside the bed, her eyes meeting mine uncertainly, her lips forcing a greeting. "Won't you sit down? Fannie, here is Mrs. Hartley...." The woman in the bed turned and raised herself on her elbow. Her face was swollen, the lips blue and loose, and her eyes had the look of watery gelatine. Without meeting my eyes, she moaned theatrically and buried her face in the pillows. "What--_what_ must you think of me?" she whined. "I think you're a fool!" slipped out before I could prevent it. "All women are fools--we're all fools over some man," she exclaimed, pounding the pillows with her fist and working herself up to a Zazaesque brand of hysteria. "Mrs. F., I did not come here to listen to a dissertation on the sex-question nor to hold your hand while you have a fit of nerves. You've got to pull yourself together or I'll wash my hands of the whole affair. I've come all the way from New York to help you out of a nasty, a _dirty_ scrape. If you wish to hear what I have to say you'll stop that silliness and act like a full-grown woman with a modicum of discretion.... Your husband is apt to walk in at any moment and it may be well for all concerned that we arrive at some plan of defence." Her sister, who had retired to a corner of the room behind me when I sat down, now crossed to the bedside. "Mrs. Hartley is right, Fannie--Frank is liable to show up at any minute." Fannie fished for her handkerchief under the pillows and sniffed tearfully while her sister arranged the pillows. "Please pardon me, Mrs. Hartley; my nerves are all gone." "I have a few nerves, myself," I thought. I found myself grasping the arms of my chair as one sometimes does at the dentist's and my teeth fairly ached from the clinching of my jaws. When Mrs. F. had folded and dropped her hands into her lap with the air of a long-suffering woman, I proceeded.