If you come you must submit to the presence of others." "Very well, Mr.Sluss," replied Cowperwood, cheerfully.

"I will not come to your office.

But unless you come to mine before five o'clock this afternoon you will face by noon to-morrow a suit for breach of promise, and your letters to Mrs.Brandon will be given to the public.
I wish to remind you that an election is coming on, and that Chicago favors a mayor who is privately moral as well as publicly so.

Good morning." Mr.Cowperwood hung up his telephone receiver with a click, and Mr.
Sluss sensibly and visibly stiffened and paled.

Mrs.Brandon! The charming, lovable, discreet Mrs.Brandon who had so ungenerously left him! Why should she be thinking of suing him for breach of promise, and how did his letter to her come to be in Cowperwood's hands?
Good heavens--those mushy letters! His wife! His children! His church and the owlish pastor thereof! Chicago! And its conventional, moral, religious atmosphere! Come to think of it, Mrs.Brandon had scarcely if ever written him a note of any kind.