Then the Italian's manner changed and he
dropped his banter. Indeed for a time he grew silent.
Brendon opened the conversation and of course treated the other as
though no question existed concerning his honesty.
"What do you think of this business?" he asked. "You have been
pretty close to it for a long time now. You must have some theory."
"I have no theory at all," replied Doria. "My own affairs are enough
for me and this cursed mystery is thrusting a finger into my life
and darkening it. I grow a very anxious and miserable man and I
will tell you why, because you are understanding. You must not be
angry if I now mention my wife in this affair. A mill and a woman
are always in want of something, as our proverb says; but though we
may know what a mill requires, who can guess a woman's whims? I am
dazed with guessing wrong. I don't intend to be hard or cruel. It is
not in me to be cruel to any woman. But how if your own woman is
cruel to you?"
They had reached the shrine--a little alcove in a rotting mass of
brick and plaster.
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