“About eighteen months ago; just before he was married. He knew you were somewhere about, but he wasn’t confidential on the subject.” “No; he wouldn’t be. Did he seem all right?” “Quite; and awfully in love with Mary Sweet. What’s she like, really?” I described my new sister-in-law as I remembered her, going on to say: “I suppose you gave Jack a good time. Did you—did you take him about anywhere?” “Let me see. I took him to—where was it? I took him to the Wynfords’—and—and—oh, yes!—to the Barrys’. And it’s too funny! I really think Regina fell in love with him at first sight. For a month or two she questioned me about him every time we met. Then all of a sudden she stopped. If she was struck by the thunderbolt, as the French put it—well, all I can say is that it serves her right.” “Serves her right—what for?” “Oh, the way she’s carried on. It’s disgraceful. Do you know her? Her father is an architect, like you.” Annette’s round, dusky face, which had no beauty but a quick, dimpling play of expression, was one that easily betrayed her ruling passion of curiosity. It was now so alight with anticipation that I tried to be more than ever casual. “I’ve—I’ve just met her.” “Where?” “Once at the memorial, when she came with Mrs. Grace; and a few nights ago I dined with her at the Coningsbys’.” “I wonder she didn’t take you for Jack.” To this I was not obliged to make a response for the reason that, the man having arrived with the tea, Annette had to give her attention to the placing of the tray. When I had taken a cup of tea from her hand I created a diversion with the question, “What did you mean by saying the way she carried on was disgraceful?” “Why, the way she gets engaged and disengaged. It’s been three times in as many years, and goodness knows how many more experiments—” “I suppose she’s trying to find the right man.” “It’s pretty hard on those she takes up and puts down in the process. She’ll get left in the end, you’ll see if she doesn’t.” “Isn’t it better to get left than to marry the wrong man?” “The very day I took Jack to see her she’d broken off her engagement to Jim Hunter. I didn’t know it at the time. It was two or three days later before it came out. If I had known it and told Jack—” “Well, what then?” “Oh, I don’t say anything. They were awfully taken with each other. But I’m glad he was saved. If he hadn’t gone straight back to Montreal he might now be in the place of poor Stephen Cantyre.” “I see a good deal of Cantyre.” “So I understand.” “Who told you?” “Elsie Coningsby.” “You seem to have got a good deal of information about me all of a sudden.” “Because you’ve dropped right into the little circle in which we all know one another with a kind of village-like intimacy. New York is really a congeries of villages.” “But any one could see that Cantyre would never make a husband for a high-spirited girl like Miss Barry.” “How do you know she’s high-spirited, if it’s not a rude question?”