“Yes.”  Jim cleared his throat.  “Yes, she has.”

“And there’s a kiddie?”

“Anna—­yes.”

“Well, now.”  Mrs. Chancellor straightened in her chair, set her cup down on a nearby table.  “I take it the gell was the injured one, eh?” said she.

Jim was a little surprised to find himself enjoying this cross-examination immensely.

“Well—­no.  She had no definite cause to feel injured,” he said.  “We quarrelled, and I came away in a hurry—–­”

“What, after a first quarrel?”

“No—­o.  It had been going on a long time.”

“Is the cause of it still existing?” Mrs. Chancellor asked in a businesslike way, after a pause.

“Well—­yes.”

“Can’t be removed, eh?  It’s not religion?”

“It’s an old love affair of hers,” Jim admitted.  The lady’s eyes twinkled.

“And you’re jealous?” she smiled.  But immediately her face grew sober.  “I see—­she still cares for him, or imagines she does,” she said.

Jim felt it safest to let this guess stand.

“Of course, if she won’t she won’t,” pursued Mrs. Chancellor comfortably.  “But the best thing you could do would be to bring her on here!”

Jim shook his head sullenly and set his jaw.

“She won’t, eh?” asked the lady, watching him thoughtfully.

“I don’t want to do that,” Jim persisted stubbornly.

“You don’t want to?” She meditated this.  “Yet she’s young, and beautiful, and presentable?” she asked, nodding her own head slowly as he nodded affirmatives.  “Yes, of course.  Well, it’s too bad.  One would have liked to meet her, take her about a bit.  And it would help you more than any one thing, my dear boy.  Oh, don’t shake your head!  Indeed it would.  However, you must be definite, one way or the other.  You must either admit outright that you’re divorced, or you must tell an acceptable story.  As it is—­one doesn’t know what to say—­whether she’s impossible in some way—­ just what the matter is, if you know what I mean?”

“I see,” Jim said heavily.

“Go have a talk with her,” commanded Mrs. Chancellor brightly.  “Finish it up, one way or another.  You’re doing her an injustice, as it is, and you’re not just to yourself.  One can’t shut a marriage up in a box, you know, and forget it.  There’s always leakage somewhere—­much better make a clean breast of the whole thing!  You’re not the first person who’s made an unfortunate early marriage, you know!”

“I loved my wife,” said Jim, in vague, resentful self-defence.  “I’m naturally a domestic man.  I loved my little girl—–­”