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en while he was coming to this somewhat unwelcome decision, the telephone bell rang. He took off the receiver and was instantly galvanised into attention. It was Josephine speaking. "Is that Mr. Wingate?" she asked. "It is," he admitted. "Good morning--Josephine!" "Quite right," she answered composedly. "That is how I like to have you call me. I am speaking for my husband. He is here by my side at the present moment." "The mischief he is!" Wingate said. "Well?" "My husband has desired me to intercede with you," Josephine continued, "to beg your acceptance of the apology which he has sent you this morning." "No further word need be spoken upon the subject," Wingate replied. "Your husband has explained that he was drunk and has tendered his apology. I accept it." There was a brief pause. Josephine was obviously repeating Wingate's decision to her husband. Then she spoke again. "My husband desires me to thank you," she said. "He desires me to hope that you will continue to visit at the house, and that you will not allow anything he may have said to interfere between our friendship." "Nothing that he has said or could say could interfere with that," Wingate assured her,--"at least that is my point of view." "And mine!" "Shall I see you to-day?" he asked. "I hope so," she answered. "Perhaps after luncheon--" There was a sound as though the receiver had been taken from her fingers. Dredlinton himself spoke. "Look here, Wingate, this is Dredlinton speaking," he said. "You won't let this little affair make any difference to your call upon us on Tuesday morning?" "Certainly not," Wingate replied. "I was thinking of writing you about that, though. I don't see any object in my coming. I think you had better let me off that visit." "My dear fellow," Dredlinton pleaded, "if you don't come, Phipps will think it is because of last night's affair and I shall get it in the neck. I'm in disgrace enough already. Do, for heaven's sake, oblige me, there's a good chap." Wingate hesitated for a moment. "Very well," he assented, "I will go. Is that all?" "That's all, thanks." "I should like to speak to your wife again," Wingate said. "Sorry, she's just gone out," was the rather malicious reply. "I'd have kept her for you, if I'd known. So long!" A knocking at the door,--a rather low, suggestive knocking. Wingate knew that it was an impossibility, but he nevertheless hastened to throw it open
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