“Like our hearts,” she thought; “they break over things that they should be able to cast aside;” and then her thoughts returned to her Pennsylvania home and to Lester Conway. “If it were not for _her_,” she thought bitterly, “he might have cared for me.” She was thinking this with her heart full of bitterness, when Fanny spoke softly. “Lettie,” she said, “did you ever know a woman named Norine?” Lettie sprang from the sofa in her astonishment; for a moment her mask of cold indifference was lifted. “Whom did you say?” she cried breathlessly. “Dear me, how excited you get,” said Fanny peevishly. “I only asked you if you had heard the name before.” The mask dropped again over Lettie’s face. “You startled me a little,” she said coldly. “What was the name?” “Norine.” Lettie passed her hand over her heart. She was greatly excited, without exactly knowing why; but she would not let Fanny see her excitement. “I have heard it somewhere,” she said quietly. “An Irish name, isn’t it?” “Gracious! I don’t know,” replied Fanny. “I have heard it but once in my life.” “When was that?” inquired Lettie indifferently. She had returned to the window now, and was standing with her back to Fanny. “It was the strangest thing that ever happened to me,” Fanny replied; “and I have never mentioned it to a living soul. It was when we were in New York, on our way to Europe, and James went out of the room for a moment, and returned as white as a sheet, looking for all the world as if he had seen a ghost. My, how frightened I was!” Lettie was plainly interested now. She took a chair in front of Fanny, and stared at her intently. Fanny was greatly flattered by her attention. “I declare,” she went on, “I was frightened almost to death.” Lettie nodded attentively. “Well, he burst into the room, as I have told you,” Fanny continued sensationally, “and dropped into a chair. I was going to call for assistance, but he would not let me. And just think! He staggered over to the table and drank a whole tumbler of wine at once! Just think of it!” “And then what?” inquired Lettie. “Well, then he got somewhat better--said it was a fit, and that he was subject to them; but he has never had one since.” She said this as if it had just occurred to her as a very singular thing indeed. Lettie got up and resumed her place by the window. “But the strangest thing of all is, that when he fell asleep--from the effect of the wine, I suppose--he muttered names in his sleep----” “What names?” inquired Lettie, turning again. “He said ‘Norine’ and ‘Clinton,’” replied Fanny; “and I have never been able to find out what they meant.” And her voice fell to its usual tone of deep injury. Lettie knew; she knew it all now. And this man was Norine Bright’s husband--her husband, and alive. Lester could not marry her after all. She must get away from this little fool, and think it out. She made an indifferent reply.