She looked calmly,
first at Mrs. Langdon, then at me.
"I sent for you," said I, "because I thought that you, rather than I,
should request Mrs. Langdon to leave your house."
At that Mrs. Langdon was on her feet, and blazing. "Fool!" she flared at
me. "Oh, the fools women make of men!" Then to Anita: "You--you--But no, I
must not permit you to drag me down to your level. Tell your husband--tell
him that you were riding with my husband in the Riverside Drive yesterday."
I stepped between her and Anita. "My wife will not answer you," said I. "I
hope, Madam, you will spare us the necessity of a painful scene. But leave
you must--at once."
She looked wildly round, clasped her hands, suddenly burst into tears.
If she had but known, she could have had her own way after that, without
any attempt from me to oppose her. For she was evidently unutterably
wretched--and no one knew better than I the sufferings of unreturned love.
But she had given me up; slowly, sobbing, she left the room, I opening the
door for her and closing it behind her.
"I almost broke down myself," said I to Anita. "Poor woman! How can you be
so calm? You women in your relations with each other are--a mystery.
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