She sank back without speaking, and he
hid his face again. The past months, the past years, were dancing a
witches' dance about him. He remembered a hundred significant
things. . . . _Oh, God_, he cried to himself, _if only she does not
lie about it!_Suddenly he recalled having pitied Mrs. Nimick because
she could not penetrate to the essence of his happiness. Those were
the very words he had used! He heard himself laugh aloud. The clock
struck--it went on striking interminably. At length he heard his
wife rise again and say with sudden authority: "John, you must
speak."
Authority--she spoke to him with authority! He laughed again, and
through his laugh he heard the senseless rattle of the words, "If
you imagine that my wife distributes patronage . . ."
He looked up haggardly and saw her standing before him. If only she
would not lie about it! He said: "You see what has happened."
"I suppose some one has told you about the 'Spy.'"
"Who told you? Gregg?" he interposed.
"Yes," she said quietly.
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