It was one thing, he reflected, to write about human
emotions; it was entirely another thing to live and act them. He saw
that his past had been full of egotism and selfishness, but he also
saw that his selfishness was of the kind that has its foundation in
indifference and not in calculation. The voices went on down stairs,
but he ceased to pay any attention to them.
"John, there's been something in my mind for many months."
"What is it?"
"Do you recollect the night you came into my rooms in New York?"
"I shall never forget it," quietly.
"Your wife was there."
"I know it. I found her gloves." He made a difficult masse. "She told
me all about it. At the time, however, I had a pretty bad case of
heart-trouble. But I understand. She was in the habit of dropping in
on you. Why not? Your cooperation made you both famous. A man in love
finds all sorts of excuses for jealousy. But I'm glad you've spoken. I
can readily understand how you felt when you found the gloves gone.
"You're a good man, John," said Warrington.
"Kate loves me; it ought to make any man good to have a wife who loves
him.
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