Thames Street was wholly impassable. He contrasted the lot of women in general with the lot of men, presented men as patient, self-immolating martyrs, and women as the pampered favorites of Nature. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. ‘Parbleu, is this a moment to be out of town? What is the matter with him that he is out of town when I need him?’ ‘Famous!’ uttered a new voice from the doorway. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. “To begin with, I was—I was in the divorce court.
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