Chapter XXVIII

           

           Theexplanationcameaweeklater.Itwasaboutteno’clockatnight;Ihadbeendiningbymyselfatarestaurant,andhavingreturnedtomysmallapartment,wassittinginmyparlour,readingIheardthecrackedtinklingofthebell,and,goingintothecorridor,openedthedoor.Stroevestoodbeforeme.

           "CanIcomein?"heasked.

           InthedimnessofthelandingIcouldnotseehimverywell,buttherewassomethinginhisvoicethatsurprisedme.IknewhewasofabstemioushabitorIshouldhavethoughthehadbeendrinking.Iledthewayintomysittingroomandaskedhimtositdown.

           "ThankGodI’vefoundyou,"hesaid.

           "What’sthematter?"Iaskedinastonishmentathisvehemence.

           Iwasablenowtoseehimwell.Asarulehewasneatinhisperson,butnowhisclotheswereindisorder.Helookedsuddenlybedraggled.Iwasconvincedhehadbeendrinking,andIsmiled.Iwasonthepointofchaffinghimonhisstate.

           "Ididn’tknowwheretogo,"heburstout."Icamehereearlier,butyouweren’tin."

           "Idinedlate,"Isaid.

           Ichangedmymind:itwasnotliquorthathaddrivenhimtothisobviousdesperation.Hisface,usuallysorosy,wasnowstrangelymottled.Hishandstrembled.

           "Hasanythinghappened?"Iasked.

           "Mywifehasleftme."

           Hecouldhardlygetthewordsout.Hegavealittlegasp,andthetearsbegantotrickledownhisroundcheeks.Ididnotknowwhattosay.MyfirstthoughtwasthatshehadcometotheendofherforbearancewithhisinfatuationforStrickland,and,goadedbythelatter’scynicalbehaviour,hadinsistedthatheshouldbeturnedout.

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