nker's.
"Mr. Lopez," she said.

"What answer have you to make me?"

"Mr. Lopez, I think you must be a fool."

He did at last succeed in getting himself into the street, and at any
rate she had not eaten him.

CHAPTER LV

Mrs. Parker's Sorrows

The end of February had come, and as far as Mrs. Lopez knew she was
to start for Guatemala in a month's time. And yet there was so much
of indecision in her husband's manner, and apparently so little done
by him in regard to personal preparation, that she could hardly bring
herself to feel certain that she would have to make the journey. From
day to day her father would ask her whether she had made her intended
purchases, and she would tell him that she had still postponed the
work. Then he would say no more, for he himself was hesitating,
doubtful what he would do, and still thinking that when at last the
time should come, he would buy his daughter's release at any price
that might be demanded. Mr. Walker, the attorney, had as yet been
able to manage nothing. He had seen Lopez more than once, and had
also seen Mr. Hartlepod. Mr. Hartlepod had simply told him that he
would be very happy to register the shares on behalf of Lopez as soon
as the money was paid. Lopez had been almost insolent in his bearing.
"Did Mr. Wharton think," he asked, "that he was going to sell his
wife for L5000?" "I think you'll have to raise your offer," Mr.
Walker had said to Mr. Wharton. That was all very well. Mr. Wharton
was willing enough to raise his offer. He would have doubled his
offer could he thereby have secured the annihilation of Lopez. "I
will raise it if he will go without his wife, and give her a written
assurance that he will never trouble her again." But the arrangement
was one which Mr. Walker found it very difficult to carry out. So
things went on till the end of February had come.

And during all this time Lopez was still resident in Mr. Wharton's
house. "Papa," she said to him one day, "this is the cruellest thing
of all. Why don't you tell him that he must go?"

"Because he would take you with him."

"It would be better so. I could come to see you."

"I did tell him to go,--in my passion. I repented of it instantly,
because I should have lost you. But what did my telling matter to
him? He was very indignant, and yet he is still here."

"You told him to go?"

"Yes;--but I am glad that he did not obey me. There must be an end to
this soon, I suppose."

"I do