Has Alix seen them?"
"His mother has them in New York," she replied. She stared into
the fire for a moment or two and then turned to him, a look of deep
concern in her eyes. "I think Alix is in love with him, Addy. She
isn't herself at all. She is distrait. Twice this afternoon she
has asked me if I didn't want to walk down into the village,--to
the postoffice or the library. What she really wanted to do was to
walk past the place where he lives. Oh, I know the symptoms. I've
had them myself,--when I was younger than I am now. We don't do
the things at thirty-two that we did at twenty-four. She is the
dearest, finest girl I've ever known, Addy. We must not let anything
happen to her."
He shook his head slowly. "If she is really in love with him,
there's nothing we can do. The saying that 'there's no fool like an
old fool' isn't in it with 'there's no fool like a woman in love.'
Look at Isabel Harrington. Wasn't she supposed to be as sensible
as they make 'em? And didn't everybody she knew tell her what kind
of a man he was? Did it do any good?"
"She knew he gambled,--and drank--and he WAS a fascinating chap,
Addy. You'll admit that."
"You bet I admit it. It was certainly proved when those other women
turned up with marriage certificates, and old Mrs. Mason jumped
into the scrimmage and had him arrested for swindling her out of
thirty-five thousand dollars, and the New York police came along
with a warrant for--"
"Yes, yes," she interrupted impatiently.
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