But Alixe, that evening in
early spring, had unwittingly suggested to him the use of a weapon the
existence of which he had never dreamed of. And he no longer entertained
any doubts of its efficiency as a means of finally ridding him of a wife
whom he had never been able to fully subdue or wholly corrupt, and who,
as a mate for him in his schemes for the pecuniary maintenance of his
household, had proven useless and almost ruinous.
He had not seen her during the summer. In the autumn he had heard of her
conduct at Hitherwood House. And, a week later, to his astonishment, he
learned of her serious illness, and that she had been taken to Clifton.
It was the only satisfactory news he had had of her in months.
So now he sat there at the bridge-table in the private card-room of the
Stuyvesant Club, deftly adding up the score that had gone against him,
but consoled somewhat at the remembrance of his appointment, and of the
probability of an early release from the woman who had been to him only
a source of social mistakes, domestic unhappiness, and financial
disappointment.
Pages:
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580