She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. “This is not every day. He never finished his sentence. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. Too damned chickenhearted to confess to me he’d run off with the woman.
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