“Nope.  I’m married for keeps.  Don’t pretend to be any saint.  Like to get out and raise Cain and shoot a few drinks.  But a fellow owes a duty——­Straight now, won’t you feel like a sneak when you come back to the missus after your jamboree?”

“Me?  My moral in life is, ’What they don’t know won’t hurt ’em none.’  The way to handle wives, like the fellow says, is to catch ’em early, treat ’em rough, and tell ’em nothing!”

“Well, that’s your business, I suppose.  But I can’t get away with it.  Besides that—­way I figure it, this illicit love-making is the one game that you always lose at.  If you do lose, you feel foolish; and if you win, as soon as you find out how little it is that you’ve been scheming for, why then you lose worse than ever.  Nature stinging us, as usual.  But at that, I guess a lot of wives in this burg would be surprised if they knew everything that goes on behind their backs, eh, Nattie?”

“Would they!  Say, boy!  If the good wives knew what some of the boys get away with when they go down to the Cities, why, they’d throw a fit!  Sure you won’t come, doc?  Think of getting all cooled off by a good long drive, and then the lov-e-ly Swiftwaite’s white hand mixing you a good stiff highball!”

“Nope.  Nope.  Sorry.  Guess I won’t,” grumbled Kennicott.

He was glad that Nat showed signs of going.  But he was restless.  He heard Carol on the stairs.  “Come have a seat—­have the whole earth!” he shouted jovially.

She did not answer his joviality.  She sat on the porch, rocked silently, then sighed, “So many mosquitos out here.  You haven’t had the screen fixed.”

As though he was testing her he said quietly, “Head aching again?”

“Oh, not much, but——­This maid is so slow to learn.  I have to show her everything.  I had to clean most of the silver myself.  And Hugh was so bad all afternoon.  He whined so.  Poor soul, he was hot, but he did wear me out.”

“Uh——­You usually want to get out.  Like to walk down to the lake shore?  (The girl can stay home.) Or go to the movies?  Come on, let’s go to the movies!  Or shall we jump in the car and run out to Sam’s, for a swim?”

“If you don’t mind, dear, I’m afraid I’m rather tired.”

“Why don’t you sleep down-stairs tonight, on the couch?  Be cooler.  I’m going to bring down my mattress.  Come on!  Keep the old man company.  Can’t tell—­I might get scared of burglars.  Lettin’ little fellow like me stay all alone by himself!”

“It’s sweet of you to think of it, but I like my own room so much.  But you go ahead and do it, dear.  Why don’t you sleep on the couch, instead of putting your mattress on the floor?  Well I believe I’ll run in and read for just a second—­want to look at the last Vogue—­and then perhaps I’ll go by-by.  Unless you want me, dear?  Of course if there’s anything you really want me for?”

“No.  No. . . .  Matter of fact, I really ought to run down and see Mrs. Champ Perry.  She’s ailing.  So you skip in and——­May drop in at the drug store.  If I’m not home when you get sleepy, don’t wait up for me.”