I stopped her as she opened the door to go out. She had roused my temper by this time. The doubt that she had cast on my marriage was more than mortal resignation could endure.
"Give me Mrs. Macallan's address," I said.
The landlady's anger receded into the background, and the landlady's astonishment appeared in its place.
"You don't mean to tell me you are going to the old lady herself?" she said.
"Nobody but the old lady can tell me what I want to know," I answered. "Your discovery (as you call it) may be enough for you; it is not enough for me. How do we know that Mrs. Macallan may not have been twice married? and that her first husband's name may not have been Woodville?"
The landlady's astonishment subsided in its turn, and the landlady's curiosity succeeded as the ruling influence of the moment. Substantially, as I have already said of her, she was a good-natured woman. Her fits of temper (as is usual with good-natured people) were of the hot and the short-lived sort, easily roused and easily appeased.
"I never thought of that," she said. "Look here! if I give you the address, will you promise to tell me all about it when you come back?"
I gave the required promise, and received the address in return.
"No malice," said the landlady, suddenly resuming all her old familiarity with me.
"No malice," I answered, with all possible cordiality on my side.
In ten minutes more I was at my mother-in-law's lodgings.