“Unluckily, yes,” replied I. He introduced his companion and suggested that we three dine at the same table. “Why not share our dinner?” said he. “I can easily change my order. Perhaps you will go with us afterwards to some amusing little plays in a Montmartre theater?” I accepted the courteous invitation. The situation appealed to my sense of humor. Also I knew that Edna--toward whom I now felt most kindly--would be delighted to read in the papers: “Prince Frascatoni had as his guest at dinner last night Mr. Godfrey Loring.” It would put an immediate stop to any tendency to gossip. As the prince did not speak of my former wife I assumed that he had heard the news. When we were separating I said: “You will dine with me to-morrow night?” “Unfortunately I’m leaving town in the morning,” said he. I thought I could guess which way he was journeying. With perhaps a twinkle in my eyes, I said: “So soon? Well--thank you, and good-by--and good luck.” I thought I saw a sardonic smile flit over his face. He probably imagined I was in the dark as to his maneuverings and designs and smiled to himself as he thought, “How differently this American would be treating me if he knew!” Do not fancy, because Edna had no charm for me, I thought it strange she should have charm for other men. Nothing could be further from the truth. I appreciated her attractive points perhaps more than any other man possibly could. Also, I appreciated--and still appreciate--that another man would not be so peculiarly annoyed by her lack of any sense of humor as I was. Indeed, had not circumstances forced me into the acutely critical mood toward her, I doubt not I could have continued to bear with that lack, though it made conversation with her all but impossible and precipitated quarrels without number. Beyond question the strongest and most enduring hold a man can get upon a woman or a woman upon a man is the physical. We--even the least intellectual of us--are something more than physical; but the physical must be contented first, and must remain contented, because we are first of all physical. The physical is the fundamental; but it takes more than foundations to make a house. And a marriage such as ours was could not endure. Each of us had but the one charm for the other. It wore itself out like a fire that is not supplied with fuel. If I had not fallen in love with another woman, there might have remained a feeling for Edna that would have made me jealous, perhaps domineering toward her. As it was, I viewed her calmly; when I said “good luck” to Frascatoni, I meant it. I hoped he would make Edna happy, for, I wished her well. Through Armitage I had provided myself with Mary Kirkwood’s address--an apartment overlooking the Parc Monceau which she and Neva Armstrong had taken for the spring months. That very afternoon I went to leave cards. As I feared she was not at home. “But,” said Mrs. Armstrong, “you may find her walking in the park with Hartley Beechman.”