"She would! Some women thrive on marital troubles. They find them more stimulating than babies."
In the hotel bedroom Ernest said: "What you need is a good hot toddy, but how am I to get you one? Do you know if there is one of those—er—'speak-easy' places about?" His heart failed him as he spoke. The thought of searching for such a place was abhorrent to him.
"No, thanks," said Eden. "I couldn't possibly take anything." He drank a glass of water and fidgeted about the room, talking in a way that seemed to Ernest rather strange and wild. Finch sat by the window smoking, and took no part in the conversation. Eden did not speak to him.
After a time Eden announced his intention of going, but just as he took up his hat he was attacked by another fit of coughing. His last strength seemed to go into this. After it was over, he flung himself on the bed and shivered from head to foot. He was plainly so ill that Ernest was distraught. He sent Finch running downstairs to inquire about a doctor. The next morning he sent a telegram to Renny which read:
