"I have amused myself with looking up the names of the people living in all the big houses around: They seem uniformly made up of couples. To the best of my belief, there is not a single man, bachelor or widower, within many miles." I said, "Oh!" and felt the faint, natural dismay which any human girl would feel in the circumstances. Charmion herself was enough romance for the present, and a precipitate "lover next door" would for the moment have been _de trop_, but still-- My expression (unvarnished!) evidently betrayed my feelings, for Charmion smiled, sighed, and stretched out a caressing hand. "Let's be honest. It is foolish to set up a partnership in the dark. Is there _anyone_, Evelyn, who may swoop down upon us at a moment's notice, and carry you off to share _his_ house?" "To the best of my knowledge there is not a solitary one. I'm quite sure of one thing, and that is, that however wildly he swooped, I wouldn't go!" "But there must be--you are so pretty, Evelyn, and so attractive--there must _have_ been." "Oh yes; two. But not real lovers, Charmion, only--_pretendus_. One was young and needy and ambitious, and thought that I should look very well sitting at the head of his table. Incidentally, that my money would be useful to provide the table and the things upon it. The other--he was rather a dear, and he cared enough to give me a pang. But he was happily married last year to a girl who is as _un_-like me in every respect as you can possibly imagine. They are both ancient history now." "And you? You yourself? You have never been in love?" If any other woman had asked me such a question there would have been short shrift with her. Charmion herself had never before attempted such personalities; but now, when she deemed it necessary, she spoke without a flicker of hesitation, her grey eyes staring full into mine. It would have seemed ridiculous to take offence. "Once. At first sight. Quite bowled over. We met at an hotel." She knew what I meant, made a dainty little grimace, and bent her head in a small bow of acknowledgment, which somehow managed to look quite regal and stately. I longed to put one or two questions in return. Widows _have_ been known to marry again! Why should I not wish to be reassured on my own account? Why should it be wrong for me to force confidences, when she herself had led the way? It would _not_ be wrong; it would be right, and prudent, and praiseworthy. The only objection was, _I could not do it_. After that little bow of acknowledgment, Charmion threw back her head until it rested on the high cushioned back of her chair. "That's settled then," she said quietly. Her heavy lids drooped over her eyes, her fine white hands were folded in her lap. There was in voice and manner an air of finality, which was as impervious as a barrier of barbed wire. Not for any bribe in the world would I have attempted to scale it.