I
suppose it must have been a couple of hours or more when I finally
turned in at the front door. Somebody was playing the piano in the
drawing room. It could only be Hilda who was playing, and I had doubts
as to whether she wanted company just then--mine, at any rate.
Eventually I decided to risk it, for I wanted to hear the latest about
dear old Harold, so in I went, and it wasn't Hilda at all; it was Ann
Selby.
"Hello," I said. "I didn't know you were coming down here." It seemed
so odd, don't you know, as it hadn't been more than ten days or so
since her last visit.
"Good evening, Reggie," she said.
"What's been happening?" I asked.
"How do you know anything has been happening?"
"I guessed it."
"Well, you're quite right, as it happens, Reggie. A good deal has been
happening." She went to the door, and looked out, listening. Then she
shut it, and came back. "Hilda has revolted!"
"Revolted?"
"Yes, put her foot down--made a stand--refused to go on meekly putting
up with Harold's insane behavior."
"I don't understand."
She gave me a look of pity. "You always were so dense, Reggie. I will
tell you the whole thing from the beginning. You remember what I spoke
to you about, one day when we were lunching together? Well, I don't
suppose you have noticed it--I know what you are--but things have been
getting steadily worse.
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