you're still keepin' your door open down at the office, lookin' for the Metten order boy? Don't do it; shut it."
Ellen ignored this. "What did he get from Mrs. Metten?" she demanded.
"That Jay's wife went to New York."
"I don't believe it," said Ellen.
"Neither does Mrs. Phil. That's why it's no use your catchin' cold sittin' in the draft keepin' your door open for a call from Mettens," Di advised. "They've lost your address."
Thereupon Ellen penetrated to the information that Lida Rountree had phoned Mrs. Philip Metten regretting her inability to make any engagements, now or in the future, because she was returning to New York and that Mrs. Metten, suspicious of a slight, awaited corroborative testimony.
"Phil called up the hotel," added Di. "And they checked out of there. But Jay's here."
"Yes," agreed Ellen, "he's here."
"Well, it wasn't exactly necessary for her to pull out. I didn't need it," asserted Di, comfortably, "but of course it didn't make it any harder for me. We got the Metten order, signed and countersigned now. You'll be told of it, to-morrow."
Ellen hardly heard this. His wife had left him! So she came to understand his new impersonalness with herself.
She went to bed, with no idea of sleep but because in bed, and with her light out, Di would not talk to her. She had to think. Think? It was not thought which was athrob in her, which thumped so that it seemed Di must
