Bingle crisply. "Have you told your
wife?"
"Yes, I have," said Force. "That's--that's why we are going abroad for
a few months. She--"
"Mrs. Bingle was right, then. She usually is. What is her attitude?"
"Devilish bad, Bingle--devilish, that's all I can say. I can't talk to
you over the telephone about it. I'll--I'll write you from Paris. I'm
--I'm working with her, that's all I can do at present. I believe
she'll come around all right in the end. I'm sure she will. I'll--I'll
let you know."
"Says she won't have the brat in her house, is that it?" said Mr.
Bingle, with a queer rasp in his voice.
"I can't talk to you over the telephone. Didn't you hear me say so a
minute ago?"
"You can say yes or no, can't you?"
"She's pretty much upset over the business."
"Speak up! I can't hear you."
"I'll drop you a line in the morning. Now, Bingle, you will take good
care of the child, won't you. She--"
"I shall take good care of all of them, Force."
"And now about this Madame Du--"
"She is out of the question, Force.
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