Wilfred felt no surprise upon reading this, nor any strong emotion. He had been through that. Just a bitter sickness of heart. “So _that_ is what it comes to!” he said to himself. Well, I suppose I may consider myself cured. X Upon his return to town in September, one of the first persons Wilfred met was Jessie Dartrey. She belonged to the Fifty-Ninth street crowd, though she herself had no pretensions either artistic or literary. She and Frances Mary Lore were great friends. Not exactly a pretty girl, Jessie had a highly individual charm. Long, dark eyes, and a crooked mouth of great sweetness. Wilfred liked her she was “such a little woman.” What was the right word for her; doughty? peppery? At any rate, discourse with her was stimulating. Wilfred had the impression that she cherished a particular scorn for himself; but he did not mind, it was so amusingly expressed. When Jessie was roused, she talked purest Saxon. He met her on the Avenue as he was returning from a fruitless call at Frances Mary’s flat. He had found the glass in the door dusty; and a faded card still in place, with the tenant’s summer address. “Hello!” said Wilfred. “I’ve just been up to see if Frances Mary was back.” Jessie’s expressive mouth tightened for a flash at the mention of her friend’s name, and Wilfred wondered what was up. Had the two quarreled? “No,” said Jessie, readily. “She won’t be back for another month. The hills are too fine to leave, she writes. And her work is coming well.” “Hard on us,” he said lightly. Again that flicker of intense disapproval across Jessie’s face. “Come and have tea somewhere,” urged Wilfred. “I’m just back myself. I’m starving for a little town talk.” “So even I will do?” she said with heavy sarcasm. Is she jealous? thought Wilfred. What a rum start that would be! “Your reasoning is faulty as usual,” he said. “There is great virtue in an accidental encounter. It has changed the fate of Kingdoms!” “Sorry, I can’t give you the change to prove it,” said Jessie. “I’m booked for tea at a house in Forty-Seventh street. You can walk to the door with me if you want.” He turned around, and accompanied her. Presently she said with a sharp, sidelong glance of the sloe-black eyes: “You’re changed since I saw you.” “How?” he asked, agreeably flattered. “More conceited than ever!” said Jessie, suddenly changing her mind. That was Jessie’s way. She had decided to conceal her real thought. In order to raise a dust, she rattled on: “You always look at me as much as to say: ‘Oh, mumma! look what the cat’s brought in!’”