When he came in, that afternoon, one glance at him made her exclaim to herself, “He half believes!  He’s puzzled!”

“Well, Mrs. Lanier,” he began at once, with more friendliness now in his heavy voice, “if I’ve made any mistake about you, I’m sorry.  But you must show me first.  If you’re real about this, you look to me like a woman who would have thought it all out in the last few days and formed a plan.  What is it?”

His abruptness rather took her breath for a moment.  Then she said, “Yes, I have a plan, but so have you.  What is it?” At her quick retort she saw a smile of grim relish come over his large features.

“My plan is simple,” he replied.  “Leave Joe to me.  Keep him quiet at night so he can work, and I’ll show you another husband.”  She shook her head.

“He’d only make more money.”

“Tell him you don’t want it, then!” She smiled at him.

“Too simple,” she said.  He looked at her.

“I thought it would be too simple for a woman,” was his answer.

“It’s worse than that,” she replied.  “It’s blind.  You’ve never been married—­apparently—­not even to one woman—­while Joe, you see, has been married twice.  To you a man’s life is all in his office—­but half of Joe’s is in his home—­and you’ll have to change that half of him, too.  I told you her friends are about—­and they have her memory on their side—­and so I can’t get rid of them until I get some friends of my own.”

“Then get them.”

“How?  Go out on any street and call up, ‘Heigh there’ at the windows?” She leaned forward quickly and sternly:  “The friends I want are the people he knew—­the ones you told me of.  That’s my plan.  Put me in touch with some of them, and let me bring them in touch with Joe.  And I’ll show you a different partner.”  He looked at her.

“Well, that’s too simple, too,” he said.

“Why is it?” she demanded.

“Because in those first years of his marriage I went to them so often, in just the way you’re thinking of.  I got some of the men he used to know to come to his office and take him to lunch.  And it did so little good they quit.  They all got sick of it—­and they’re through.”

Ethel leaned forward intensely: 

“But it will be different now!  Before, they had Amy here working against them!  I’m here now, and I’ll be on their side!” He frowned, and she cried impatiently, “You don’t believe me, do you!  You don’t believe I can do anything—­or even that I want to!”

He looked at her for a moment.

“Yes,” he said, “I almost do.”

“Then please give me a chance,” she said, very low.  And by her eager questions she began to draw out of Nourse the information she wanted.  It did not come easy, for the past seemed buried deep in his memory.  As one by one he spoke of Joe’s friends he would add, “But he’s dead,” or, “He’s gone West.”  He had kept track of them, after a fashion, but he had seen them little of late.  What a lonely life he had led, she thought.  She wondered if he had grown too old and hopeless to be of any help.  She fought down her discouragement.