She went to live with her mother and
sister at Peekskill on the advice of Dr. Fiddler almost immediately
after the Supreme Court's opinion was handed down. Later on, she came
down to the city with her mother, who now received a small but
sufficient income through the death and will of a fairly well-to-do
bachelor brother. The old lady took a house in the Bronx and once a
week Mr. Bingle journeyed northward by subway and surface lines to
visit his wife. A smart little doctor from Dr. Fiddler's staff made
occasional visits to the Bronx and looked the part of a wiseacre when
Mr. Bingle appealed to him for encouragement. He smiled knowingly and
refused to commit himself beyond a more or less reassuring squint, a
pursing of the lips, and the usual statement that if nothing happened
she would be as fit as ever in the course of time.
The cot in the kitchen was for Mr. Bingle in case Mrs. Bingle decided
to come back to him in health as well as in person. He consoled
himself with the daily hope that she would come dashing in upon him,
as well as ever and in perfect sympathy with his decision to protect
the helpless children they had gathered about them in their years of
affluence.
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