“I should rather trust your heart than your age, Mrs. Laflamme,” said Margaret, with a laugh. “Yes, my heart is as old as my face. But I had a feeling, seeing you walk away that evening into the conservatory. I knew what was coming. I think I have discovered a great secret, Mrs. Henderson to be able to live over again in other people. By-the-way, what has become of that quiet Englishman, Mr. Lyon?” “He has come into his title. He is the Earl of Chisholm.” “Dear me, how stupid in us not to have taken a sense of that! And the Eschelles--do you know anything of the Eschelles?” “Yes; they are at their house in Newport.” “Do you think there was anything between Miss Eschelle and Mr. Lyon? I saw her afterwards several times.” “Not that I ever heard. Miss Eschelle says that she is thoroughly American in her tastes.” “Then her tastes are not quite conformed to her style. That girl might be anything--Queen of Spain, or coryphee in the opera ballet. She is clever as clever. One always expects to hear of her as the heroine of an adventure.” “Didn't you say you knew her in Europe?” “No. We heard of her and her mother everywhere. She was very independent. She had the sort of reputation to excite curiosity. But I noticed that the men in New York were a little afraid of her. She is a woman who likes to drive very near the edge.” Mrs. Laflamme rose. “I must not keep Mr. McNaughton waiting for any more of my gossip. We expect you and the Misses Arbuser this afternoon. I warn you it will be dull. I should like to hear of some summer resort where the men are over sixteen and under sixty.” Mrs. Laflamme liked to drive near the edge as much as Carmen did, and this piquancy was undeniably an attraction in her case. But there was this difference between the two: there was a confidence that Mrs. Laflamme would never drive over the edge, whereas no one could tell what sheer Carmen might not suddenly take. A woman's reputation is almost as much affected by the expectation of what she may do as by anything she has done. It was Fox McNaughton who set up the dictum that a woman may do almost anything if it is known that she draws a line somewhere.