That's the
sort of proposition a man's up against; and what's the use of
gathering the news?"
And Bates rose up with an oath, kicking away the chair behind him.
"Come on," he said; "let's get out of here. I don't know that I'll
ever come back."
Montague spent another hour wandering about with Bates, listening to
his opinion of the newspapers of the Metropolis. Then, utterly
exhausted, he went home; but not to sleep. He sat in a chair for an
hour or two, his mind besieged by images of ruin and destruction. At
last he lay down, but he had not closed his eyes when daylight began
to stream into the room.
At eight o'clock he was up again and at the telephone. He called up
Lucy's apartment house.
"I want to speak to Mrs. Taylor," he said.
"She is not in," was the reply.
"Will you ring up the apartment?" asked Montague. "I will speak to
the maid."
"This is Mr. Montague," he said, when he heard the woman's voice.
"Where is Mrs. Taylor?"
"She has not come back, sir," was the reply.
Montague had some work before him that day which could not be put
off.
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