"The truth!" he repeated wildly. "She wouldn't know the truth if
she saw it under a microscope. She's the most unconscionable
little liar that ever lured a man to the altar."

Jimmy rolled his round eyes with feigned incredulity.

"I found it out before we'd been married a month," continued
Alfred. "She used to sit evenings facing the clock. I sat with
my back to it. I used to ask her the time. Invariably she would
lie half an hour, backward or forward, just for practice. THAT
was the BEGINNING. Here, listen to some of these," he added, as
he drew half a dozen telegrams from his inner pocket, and
motioned Jimmy to sit at the opposite side of the table.

Jimmy would have preferred to stand, but it was not a propitious
time to consult his own preferences. He allowed himself to be
bullied into the chair that Alfred suggested.

Throwing himself into the opposite chair, Alfred selected various
exhibits from his collection of messages. "I just brought these
up from the office," he said. "These are some of the telegrams
that she sent me each day last week while I was away. This is
Monday's." And he proceeded to read with a sneering imitation of
Zoie's cloy sweetness.

" 'Darling, so lonesome without you. Cried all day. When are
you coming home to your wee sad wifie? Love and kisses. Zoie.' "
Tearing the defenceless telegram into bits, Alfred threw it from
him and waited for his friend's verdict.