"They surely do ... and I presume you've been worried to death about Fannie." The name slipped glibly from my lips. He shot me a quick glance which told me the familiar use of his wife's name had been effective. He shifted uneasily in his seat as he answered. "Well, yes----" "We have been fairly living on the long distance telephone trying to reach you. What on earth was the trouble? Edith received Fannie's telegram a minute after you called her up and when she tried to reach you--well, she couldn't, that's all...." "There was something the matter with the connection ... it's been off for several days ..." he replied. "Of course we could have telegraphed but we didn't want to alarm you," I went on, meeting his own brave lie with another. "As a matter of fact I think we all were more scared than hurt. Fannie had had a cold while we were still in Chicago--that's a trying climate in the winter. Then when we reached Cleveland, there wasn't much of an improvement in the matter of weather and I felt a bit guilty in having urged her to go with us." I toyed with, the celery and wiped off imaginary soot. "Were you in Cleveland?" I looked up at him in mild surprise. "Why, of course. It was at my invitation that Fannie accompanied us. She was bored to death in Chicago ... it must be deadly monotonous--this same routine day after day ... the same faces and nothing new to talk about.... You know--you know if you were my husband I shouldn't let you run away on hunting trips and leave me behind.... I don't think you men realize how stupid it becomes with no change of menu--as it were...." I reproved him with a smile. For the first time his eyes sent back a glint of warmth. "How long have you known Fannie? It's odd that I've never--had the pleasure of meeting you before." (The pleasure was an after-thought.) "O ... I've known Fannie for ... let me see ... nearly three years...." (I made a mental note of this for "Fannie's" benefit.) "We met when Will played Chicago two seasons since. We took quite a fancy to each other, and last winter when she came to New York we went about together and became quite good friends.... I presume you were away on one of your hunting trips last winter ... naughty sir ... that's the reason I didn't meet you.... This trip I brought Boy to Chicago.... You haven't seen my young son, have you? You must make his acquaintance to-morrow. We're most awfully vain about him ... think he's the only boy in the world. I suppose you feel that way about your little girls ... they _are_ beauties. They've got your eyes, though they have inherited Fannie's regular features...."