Burton was a little taken aback.  He recovered himself, however, secure in the splendid consciousness of his irreproachable clothes and the waiting motor-car.  He threw open the door of the parlor.

“Step this way a moment, Ellen,” he said.  She followed him reluctantly into the room.  He put his hand upon her shoulder to lead her to the window.  She shook herself free at once.

“Hands off!” she ordered.  “What is it you want?”

He pointed out of the window to the magnificent memorial of his success.  She looked at it disparagingly.

“What’s that?  Your taxicab?” she asked.  “What did you keep him for?  You can get another one at the corner.”

Burton gasped.

“Taxicab!” he exclaimed.  “Taxicab, indeed!  Look at it again.  That’s a motor-car—­my own motor-car.  Do you hear that?  Bought and paid for!”

“Well, run away and play with it, then!” she retorted, turning as though to leave the room.  “I don’t want you fooling about here.  I’m just getting Alfred’s supper.”  Burton dropped his cigar upon the carpet.  Even when he had picked it up, he stood looking at her with his mouth a little open.

“You don’t seem to understand, Ellen,” he said.  “Listen.  I’ve come back home.  A share of that motor-car is yours.”

“Come back home,” Ellen repeated slowly.

“Exactly,” he admitted, complacently.  “I am afraid this is rather a shock for you, but good news never kills, you know.  We’ll motor up to the band presently and I’ve asked the Johnsons to supper.  If you’ve nothing in the house, we’ll all go up to the west-end somewhere. . . .  What’s the matter with you?”

Ellen was looking at that moment positively handsome.  Her cheeks were scarlet and her eyes ablaze.

“Alfred Burton,” she declared, “the last few times I’ve seen you, I’ve put you down as being dotty.  Now I am sure of it.  The sooner you’re out of this, the better, before I lose my temper.”

“But, my dear Ellen,” he protested, soothingly, “I can assure you that what I am telling you is the truth!  I have become unexpectedly rich.  A fortunate stroke of business—­the Menatogen Company, you know—­has completely altered our lives.  You are naturally overcome—­”

“Naturally over-fiddlesticks!” Ellen interrupted.  “Look here, my man, I’ve had about enough of this.  You come down here, thinking because you’ve come to your senses, and because you’ve got new clothes and a motor-car, that you can just sit down as though nothing had happened.  Just let me tell you this—­you can’t do it!  You can leave your wife because she can’t stop you.  You can stay away from her because she can’t drag you back.  But you can’t come and put on a new suit of clothes and bring a motor-car and say ‘I’ve come back,’ and sit down at your usual place and find everything just as you’ve left it.  You can’t do that, Alfred Burton, and you must be a bigger fool even than you look to imagine that you can!”