agitation, “can I see you a moment? A matter of business, Woodhouse, if you don’t mind. Can we go into another room, West?”
But the lawyer protested that he was just about to go home. “I have married a wife; you’ll see how it is yourself, Billy, pretty soon! Lois allows me twenty minutes leeway of the hour I name to get home, and if I’m not back then, she threatens to send a policeman after me. Good-night. Good-night, John.” And he went whistling off into the night.
The minister had not spoken.
“Look here,” John Paul said, as the front door banged, “what under the sun is this business? Good Lord, West, Amy’s sent you a letter—Kate told me to break it to you, but I—confound it, man—go and read it. The girl’s crazy. Go and read it. What are we going to do?”
Without a word William West took the letter and read it, standing facing Mr. Paul. (“It looked,” John Paul told his wife afterwards, “as though he died, then and there.”)
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