Part 10 (2/2)
”Zoie dear,” she said as the fragile mite rocked to and fro. ”What is it?” She pressed the soft ringlets from the girl's throbbing forehead.
”It's Alfred,” sobbed Zoie. ”He's gone!”
”Yes, I know,” answered Aggie tenderly. ”Isn't it awful? Jimmy just told me.”
”Jimmy told you WHAT?” questioned Zoie, and she lifted her head and regarded Aggie with sudden uneasiness. Her friend's answer raised Jimmy considerably in Zoie's esteem. Apparently he had not breathed a word about the luncheon.
”Why, Jimmy told me,” continued Aggie, ”that you and Alfred had had another tiff, and that Alfred had gone for good.”
”For GOOD!” echoed Zoie and her eyes were wide with terror. ”Did Alfred tell Jimmy that?”
Aggie nodded.
”Then he MEANS it!” cried Zoie, at last fully convinced of the strength of Alfred's resolve. ”But he shan't,” she declared emphatically. ”I won't let him. I'll go after him. He has no right----” By this time she was running aimlessly about the room.
”What did you do to him?” asked Aggie, feeling sure that Zoie was as usual at fault.
”Nothing,” answered Zoie with wide innocent eyes.
”Nothing?” echoed Aggie, with little confidence in her friend's ability to judge impartially about so personal a matter.
”Absolutely nothing,” affirmed Zoie. And there was no doubting that she at least believed it.
”What does he SAY,” questioned Aggie diplomatically.
”He SAYS I 'hurt his soul.' Whatever THAT is,” answered Zoie, and her face wore an injured expression. ”Isn't that a nice excuse,” she continued, ”for leaving your lawful wedded wife?” It was apparent that she expected Aggie to rally strongly to her defence. But at present Aggie was bent upon getting facts.
”HOW did you hurt him?” she persisted.
”I ate lunch,” said Zoie with the face of a cherub.
”With whom?” questioned Aggie slyly. She was beginning to scent the probable origin of the misunderstanding.
”It's of no consequence,” answered Zoie carelessly; ”I wouldn't have wiped my feet on the man.” By this time she had entirely forgotten Aggie's proprietors.h.i.+p in the source of her trouble.
”But who WAS the man?” urged Aggie, and in her mind, she had already condemned him as a low, unprincipled creature.
”What does that matter?” asked Zoie impatiently. ”It's ANY man with Alfred--you know that--ANY man!”
Aggie sank in a chair and looked at her friend in despair. ”Why DO you do these things,” she said wearily, ”when you know how Alfred feels about them?”
”You talk as though I did nothing else,” answered Zoie with an aggrieved tone. ”It's the first time since I've been married that I've ever eaten lunch with any man but Alfred. I thought you'd have a little sympathy with me,” she whimpered, ”instead of putting me on the gridiron like everyone else does.”
”Everyone else?” questioned Aggie, with recurring suspicion.
”I mean Alfred,” explained Zoie. ”HE'S 'everyone else' to me.” And then with a sudden abandonment of grief, she threw herself prostrate at her friend's knees. ”Oh, Aggie, what can I do?” she cried.
But Aggie was not satisfied with Zoie's fragmentary account of her latest escapade. ”Is that the only thing that Alfred has against you?”
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