The man crushed his cigar in his fingers and threw the pieces on the floor.  “That’s what’s been the worst!” he exclaimed bitterly.  “Not hearing, not knowing.  It’s been hell!”

His eyes as he raised them were filled with suffering, deep and genuine.

Ford rose suddenly.  “Let’s go down to the Savoy for supper,” he said.

“Supper!” growled Ashton.  “What’s the use of supper?  Do you suppose cold chicken and a sardine can keep me from thinking?”

Ford placed his hand on the other’s shoulder.

“You come with me,” he said kindly.  “I’m going to do you a favor.  I’m going to bring you a piece of luck.  Don’t ask me any questions,” he commanded hurriedly.  “Just take my word for it.”

They had sat so late over their cigars that when they reached the restaurant on the Embankment the supper-room was already partly filled, and the corridors and lounge were brilliantly lit and gay with well-dressed women.  Ashton regarded the scene with gloomy eyes.  Since he had spoken of his wife he had remained silent, chewing savagely on a fresh cigar.  But Ford was grandly excited.  He did not know exactly what he intended to do.  He was prepared to let events direct themselves, but of two things he was assured:  Mrs. Ashton loved her husband, and her husband loved her.  As the god in the car who was to bring them together, he felt a delightful responsibility.

The young men left the coat-room and came down the short flight of steps that leads to the wide lounge of the restaurant.  Ford slightly in advance, searching with his eyes for Mrs Ashton, found her seated alone in the lounge, evidently waiting for him.  At the first glance she was hardly be recognized.  Her low-cut dinner gown of black satin that clung to her like a wet bath robe was the last word of the new fashion; and since Ford had seen her her blond hair had been arranged by an artist.  Her appearance was smart, elegant, daring.  She was easily the prettiest and most striking-looking woman in the room, and for an instant Ford stood gazing at her, trying to find in the self-possessed young woman the deserted wife of the steamer.  She did not see Ford.  Her eyes were following the progress down the hall of a woman, and her profile was toward him.

The thought of the happiness he was about to bring to two young people gave Ford the sense of a genuine triumph, and when he turned to Ashton to point out his wife to him he was thrilling with pride and satisfaction.  His triumph received a bewildering shock.  Already Ashton had discovered the presence of Mrs. Ashton.  He was standing transfixed, lost to his surroundings, devouring her with his eyes.  And then, to the amazement of Ford, his eyes filled with fear, doubt, and anger.  Swiftly, with the movement of a man ducking a blow, he turned and sprang up the stairs and into the coat-room.  Ford, bewildered and more conscious of his surroundings, followed him less quickly,