Crazy Radio eBooks

The latter, most likely. And yet
Violet Williamson's manner the last Sunday evening he had spent at her
house, had stopped just short of a hushed voice and tiptoes. He'd been
momentarily expecting her to offer him an egg-nog.
But this paroxysm of tact that had just broken out in his office was
really too much. Of course they'd been talking him over, those two. It
must have been amply obvious to them for a good while that there was
something more than met the eye, about that long visit of his wife's to
California. And it was nice and human of them to feel sorry for him. But
that they should decide, because _The Girl Up-stairs_ contained some
rather coarsely derisive song, perhaps, about men whose wives run away
from them, or something in the plot about a trip to California with a
less honorable purpose than its ostensible one, that he should on no
account be permitted to see the show, was ridiculous. He walked straight
over to the club and told the man at the cigar counter to get him a
ticket for to-night's performance.


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