"It's customary to greet your hostess, Louis."
"Easiest thing I do," boasted the new arrival cheerily. "'Lo, Mrs.
Doyle. Is our niece going to dine with us?"
"I don't know yet, Mr. Akers," she said, without warmth. Louis
Akers knew quite well that Elinor did not like him, and the thought
amused him, the more so since as a rule women liked him rather too
well. Deep in his heart he respected Jim Doyle's wife, and
sometimes feared her. He respected her because she had behind her
traditions of birth and wealth, things he professed to despise but
secretly envied. He feared her because he trusted no woman, and
she knew too much.
She loved Jim Doyle, but he had watched her, and he knew that
sometimes she hated Doyle also. He knew that could be, because
there had been women he had both loved and hated himself.
Elinor had gone out, and Akers sat down.
"Well," he said, in a lowered tone. "I've written it."
Doyle closed the door, and stood again with his head lowered,
considering.
"You'd better look over it," continued Lou. "I don't want to be
jailed. You're better at skating over thin ice than I am. And
I've been thinking over the Prohibition matter, Jim.
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