“All right then—Now, Mr. Haworth, what about you? I suppose, from what you’ve been telling me, that you’ve had some—er—interruptions and—and anxieties that may have seriously interfered with your work?” “Yes, I have.” “Well, we’ve got one distraction out of the way,” Trescott said, hopefully, indicating the note and address that Haworth was holding in his hand. “Yes,” the young man said; and after thanking Mr. Trescott in his laconic way, he went to the address of the doctor. * * * * * They kept Edith at the hospital for some weeks after she could have gone home. For observation, it was said—but that didn’t get to Haworth. He knew only that all had gone well, that there was a very minute daughter in the world, and that the conditions might perhaps be better than they had been so far as Findlay was concerned, for a warning from the patrolman given before his wife was taken to the hospital had apparently accomplished its purpose. Augustus entertained a serious repugnance to jail from having once been compelled to sample it, and the patrolman’s words were seed sown in specially fertilized soil. For some time he had kept on the safe side of the line which divided bestial drunkenness from mere gentlemanly intoxication. And when Edith, after an absence of some two months, returned to the cottage on Cherry Street with the baby and a nurse, the comparative decency of his conduct came near astounding her. Findlay, however, was controlling himself with the utmost difficulty. To the fear of the police was now added the presence of a nurse—and in a damned uniform, at that! How did he know but that she was sent there to report him? His mania to get even with Haworth increased till he was in a condition of chronic fury. He’d found out that Haworth had been meeting his wife, that the money she’d been using for household expenses came from him instead of being earned by her, that he had sent her to the hospital for her confinement and paid for it—though as to that, who should pay for it if not he?—and he hadn’t a doubt that it was Haworth who’d set the police on him. Haworth—Haworth—Haworth—whichever way he turned. And here she was, still wearing the clothes this fellow had given her—brazenly wearing them before his face! The getting of his money was nothing; it was what it meant—what it showed was going on. He’d been told by some of his disreputable associates that he could bring suit for alienation and get all the rotter’s property away from him. He’d do it, too! He knew a lawyer who’d take it on spec. Cost nothing. But that wasn’t enough. Money was all very well, but satisfaction—that was what he wanted—satisfaction! * * * * *