Armitage, in a company of titled people, his nostrils full of his beloved, stealthily enjoyed perfumes of wealth and rank, was captivated by Edna. If he had stopped a week or so, his American shrewdness might have found her out, might have seen why I could view with unruffled sleeves, as the Chinese say, the loss of so lovely and lively a companion. But, stopping only for the week end, he became doubtful of my sincerity. I measured how deeply he had been deluded when he spoke of her keen sense of humor. Woman nature is too practical, too matter of fact for even the cleverest of them to have a real sense of humor--with now and then an exception, of course. Edna had not a glimmer of appreciation of either wit or humor. But only I, before whom she dropped all pretenses except those that were essential to her pose--only I knew this. Before the rest of the world, with the aid of her vivacity!--What an aid to women is vivacity!--how many of them it marries well!--With the aid of her vivacity she made a convincing show not only of appreciating humor and wit but also of having much of both. At precisely the right place she gave the proper, convincing, charming exhibition of dancing eyes and pearl-white teeth. And occasionally with a pretty liveliness she repeated as her own some witticism she had heard much applauded in another and remote company. But I do not blame you, ladies, for your inveterate and incessant posing. We men are determined to idealize and to be gulled, and you need us to pay for your luxury and your finery. I let Armitage probe on and on until my impatience for his news would suffer no further delay. I said: “I see you refuse to be convinced. So let it go at that, and tell me what you found out. Is she to marry Frascatoni?” “As I’ve been telling you, I believe she is in love with you, Loring.” “But is she going to free me?” “Unless you do something pretty soon, I’m afraid you’ll lose her.” It was too absurd that he, who had lived with one of these showy vivacious women, had found her out and had rid himself of her should be thus taken in by another of precisely the same kind. But that’s the way it is with men. They understand why they yawn at their own show piece; but they can’t appreciate that all show pieces in time produce the same effect. “There still remain three weeks before the day on which her lawyers must ask the judge to confirm the decree,” said I. “Do you think she will have them do it or not?” “Unless you get busy, old man----” “But I shall not get busy. I shall do everything I can to encourage her to stay free.” “Then you’ll lose her,” said he. “Frascatoni is mad about her, and he knows how to make an impression on a woman. It irritated me to see a damned dago carrying off such a prize--and you know I’m not prejudiced in favor of American women.”