Honest, it listens like a first-class mystery. According to him they'd been staying at one of the swellest joints he could find in the whole state of Florida. Also he'd bought Lucy all the kinds of clothes she would let him buy, from sport suits to evening gowns. She'd taken up a lot of different things, too--golf, riding, swimming, dancing. Seemed to be having a bully time when--bang! She breaks out into a weepy spell and announces that she is going home. Does it, too, all by her lonesome, leaving Babe to trail along by the next train. "And for the life of me, Torchy," he declares, "I can't imagine why." "Well, let's try to piece it out," says I. "First off, how have you been spending your honeymoon?" "Oh, golf mostly," says he. "I was runner up in the big tournament." "I see," says I. "Thirty-six holes a day, eh?" He nods. "And a jack-pot session with the old crowd every evening?" I asks. "Oh, only now and then," says he. "With a few late parties down in the grill?" I goes on. "Not a party," says Babe. "State's dry, you know. No, generally we went into the ballroom evenings and I helped Lucy try out the new steps she was learning." "You did!" says I. "Then I give it up." "Me too," says Babe. "But I'm not going to give up Lucy. Say, she's a regular person, she is. She was making good, too, and having a whale of a time when all of a sudden--Say, Torchy, if it was some break I made I want to know it, so I can square myself. She wouldn't tell me; wouldn't have a word to say. But listen, perhaps if you asked her----" "Hey, back up!" says I. "You know, if it hadn't been for you I might never have seen her," he goes on. "You were there when it began, and if there's to be a finish you might as well be in on that, too. I've got to know what it was I did, though. Honest, I can't remember anything particularly raw. Been chewing over it for two nights. If you could just----" Well, at the end of ten minutes I agrees to go up to the plumber's house, and if the new Mrs. Cutler will see me I says I'll put it up to her. "But you got to come along and hang around outside while I'm doing it," I insists. "I'll do anything that either you or Lucy asks," says he. "I'll go the limit." "That listens fair enough," says I. So that's how it happens I'm waitin' in the plumber's parlor for Babe Cutler's runaway bride. And say, when she shows up in that zippy sport suit, just in from a long tramp across country, she looks some classy. First off she's inclined to be nervous and jumpy and don't want to talk about Babe at all. "Oh, he's all right," says she. "I have nothing against him. He--he meant well." "As bad as that, was he?" says I. "I shall hate to tell him." "But it wasn't Babe, at all," she insists. "Don't you dare say it was, either. If you must know, it was that awful hotel life. I--I just couldn't stand it." "Eh?" says I, and I expect I must have been gawpin' some. "Why, I understand you were at one of the swellest----"