Now he
had friends of his own, and he could not keep these friends from
visiting him; and so he was unquiet with the fear that some one
of them might play upon him the same vile trick. Even in the
midst of his radiant happiness, when he knew that Henriette was
hanging upon his every word, trembling with delight when she
heard his latchkey in the door--still he could not drive away the
horrible thought that perhaps all this might be deception.
There was his friend, Gustave, for example. He had been a friend
of Henriette's before her marriage; he had even been in love with
her at one time. And now he came sometimes to the house--once or
twice when George was away! What did that mean? George
wondered. He brooded over it all day, but dared not drop any
hint to Henriette. But he took to setting little traps to catch
her; for instance, he would call her up on the telephone,
disguising his voice. "Hello! Hello! Is that you, Madame
Dupont?" And when she answered, "It is I, sir," all
unsuspecting, he would inquire, "Is George there?"
"No, sir," she replied. "Who is this speaking?"
He answered, "It is I, Gustave. How are you this morning?" He
wanted to see what she would answer. Would she perhaps say,
"Very well, Gustave. How are you?"--in a tone which would betray
too great intimacy!
But Henriette was a sharp young person. The tone did not sound
like Gustave's. She asked in bewilderment, "What?" and then
again, "What?"
So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected,
had to burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke.
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