"I mean I saw a ghost; I might say two ghosts, for I saw in imagination also the ghost of myself as I was when a girl. I saw the man I was in love with when I was seventeen." "I thought you were in love with Ferdy then?" "No; never." She spoke with sudden emphasis. "How interesting! And you congratulated yourself on your escape? We always do. I was violently in love with a little hotel clerk, with oily hair, a snub-nose, and a waxed black moustache, in the Adirondacks when I was that age." Mrs. Lancaster made no reply to this, and her hostess looked at her keenly. "Where was it? How long before--?" She started to ask, how long before she was married, but caught herself. "What did he look like? He must have been good-looking, or you would not be so pensive." "He looked like--a man." "How old was he--I mean, when he fell in love with you?" said Mrs. Wentworth, with a sort of gasp, as she recalled Mr. Lancaster's gray hair and elderly appearance. "Rather young. He was only a few years older than I was; a young--what's his name?--Hercules, that brought me down a mountain in his arms the second time I ever saw him." "Alice Lancaster!" "I had broken my leg--almost I had got a bad fall from a horse and could not walk, and he happened to come along." "Of course. How romantic! Was he a doctor? Did you do it on purpose?" Mrs. Lancaster smiled. "No; a young schoolmaster up in the mountains. He was not handsome--not then. But he was fine-looking, eyes that looked straight at you and straight through you; the whitest teeth you ever saw; and shoulders! He could carry a sack of salt!" At the recollection a faint smile flickered about her lips. "Why didn't you marry him?" "He had not a cent in the world. He was a poor young school-teacher, but of a very distinguished family. However, mamma took fright, and whisked me away as if he had been a pestilence." "Oh, naturally!" "And he was too much in love with me. But for that I think I should not have given him up. I was dreadfully cut up for a little while. And he--" She did not finish the sentence. On this Mrs. Wentworth made no observation, though the expression about her mouth changed. "He made a reputation afterwards. I knew he would. He was bound to succeed. I believed in him even then. He had ideals. Why don't men have ideals now?" "Some of them do," asserted Mrs. Wentworth. "Yes; Norman has. I mean unmarried men. I heard he made a fortune, or was making one--or something." "Oh!" "He knew more than any one I ever saw--and made you want to know. All I ever read he set me to. And he is awfully good-looking. I had no idea he would be so good-looking. But I tell you this: no woman that ever saw him ever forgot him." "Is he married?" "I don't think so--no. If he had been I should have heard it. He really believed in me." Mrs. Wentworth glanced at her with interest. "Where is he staying?" "I do not know. I saw him through a shop-window." "What! Did you not speak to him?"