"Jimmy ought to marry and settle down," she reflected, with all the shameless match-making instinct of the happily married bride. "I wonder who she could be? He's never breathed a word to Reese, I'm sure--" Dorothy's instinct was not at fault. As her glance followed the wide-shouldered figure of Jimmy Wren, it rested upon a table near the entrance. At this table sat two men and a woman, very handsomely gowned and furred in white, to whom Wren was speaking. Both the men were unknown to Dorothy. The face of the woman was hidden until Wren turned to leave; then she had one swift, clear glimpse of the profile--a striking and unforgettable profile. The eyes of Dorothy widened suddenly, widened with astounded incredulity; and their steely blue was altered to a stormy violet. Beaming all over, Jimmy Wren returned and slid into his chair. "That friend of mine--by George, I wish you knew her!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "A wonderful woman, Mrs. Armstrong, and from the South, too. Mrs. Bird Fowler of Paducah. Talk about your Kentucky belles! Perhaps you know her, though? Isn't Paducah somewhere near Evansville?" Dorothy, smiling, shook her head. "There are a number of Fowlers; the river-packets used to be named after them, you know, but I don't think I know your friend. Of course, one can't keep track of every member of a famous family." "I suppose not," assented Wren. "Is she a widow?" "Yes. Had a frightful time with her husband, I understand. Poor girl!" At this, Dorothy bit her lip. "I caught a glimpse of the lady's face," she said sweetly. "She looked like some one I used to know in Evansville." A peculiar nuance of her voice held Wren's attention. "Eh? She's the same one?" "Oh, of course not--merely a fancied resemblance," responded Dorothy with assurance. "You see, Jimmy, this Evansville girl was very unfortunate; Viola Bland was her name. She was a stunning beauty, and her mother forced her to marry for money, and--well, poor Viola just didn't care, I suppose!" "How do you mean?" queried Wren, staring at her. Dorothy made an indescribable gesture. "A terrible scandal, my dear Jimmy! She became quite the talk of the town. Finally she decamped with another lady's husband and there were divorces and everything. I always felt very sorry for poor Viola." Jimmy Wren blushed faintly, but looked relieved. "Mrs. Fowler might not be flattered by the resemblance, then," he said drily. "She's awfully keen on the proprieties and all that sort of thing." "How did you come to meet her, if I may ask?" "Came in here one day with Macgowan to luncheon, and met her; she was lunching with a chap he knew--that's the man over there now, with her; his back to us. Harry Lorenz. He's a broker or something that doesn't take work." Dorothy nodded. She had heard Armstrong speak of Macgowan's intimacy with Harry Lorenz, and now she frowned slightly. "Is she a friend of Lawrence Macgowan?" she enquired.