THE HONEYMOON "You can't mean to let your wife stay here!" ejaculated the colonel, sharply.

"You wouldn't do anything so mad!" Merryon's hard mouth took a sterner downward curve.

"My wife refuses to leave me, sir," he said.
"Good heavens above, Merryon!" The colonel's voice held a species of irritated derision.

"Do you tell me you can't manage--a--a piece of thistledown like that ?" Merryon was silent, grimly, implacably silent.

Plainly he had no intention of making such an admission.
"It's madness--criminal madness!" Colonel Davenant looked at him aggressively, obviously longing to pierce that stubborn calm with which Merryon had so long withstood the world.
But Merryon remained unmoved, though deep in his private soul he knew that the colonel was right, knew that he had decided upon a course of action that involved a risk which he dreaded to contemplate.
"Oh, look here, Merryon!" The colonel lost his temper after his own precipitate fashion.