"Don’t be alarmed; I give you my word he sha’n’t molest you again. I was about to res—I was about to transfer my valuable services to another sphere. What you have told me determines me to hang on a little longer, for the sole satisfaction of bringing Hutchins Burley to book." "Oh, you mustn’t injure your prospects on my account." "No fear. There’s pleasure in checkmating a fellow like Burley, and profit, too. You know, Janet, the real old-fashioned heavy-weight villains are deplorably scarce. Goodness, routine goodness, is so easy nowadays, it is so much in fashion, it is so thoroughly rammed down our throats by compulsory education, that very few people are inclined to be wicked and fewer still are energetic enough to carry out the inclination. Mr. Hutchins Burley is a rare beast. He does not identify his wickedness with our goodness. Not he. He believes in himself from top to bottom. Unlike the usual criminal of today, he doesn’t suffer from the cowardice of his convictions." They discussed Janet’s plans. Ways and means, and how to get her off the rocks, were the first considerations. "Do you know what?" said Pryor, reflectively; "your old friend Cornelia Covert could give you a lift." "Oh, no; I can’t go back to America—not yet, anyhow," said Janet resolutely. "But she isn’t in America. She’s in Paris. You didn’t know it? Then I’ve a big piece of news for you. She’s married!" "Cornelia married!" "Yes. Benedick, the married man, isn’t in it with Diana, the married woman." "It’s Harry Kelly, of course. Give me a moment to catch my breath. Mrs. Harry Kelly!" "Not a bit of it." "What do you mean?" "You’ve heard of Paulette crepe, haven’t you?" "The crepe that’s all the rage this year. Mr. Pryor, when I see a Paulette crepe blouse in a London shop, the cells of my great-great-grandmother rise enviously within me and turn the clock back to Noah." "The curse of Eve," said Mr. Pryor, in his driest vein. "Well, everybody knows that Paulette crepe is named after Madame Paulette, one of the first dressmakers of Paris. Not everybody knows that Madame Paulette’s real name is—" "Cornelia!" "Precisely." Prior briefly narrated the curious story of Cornelia’s migration to Paris, her marriage to Harry Kelly, her transformation into a fashionable dressmaker. Through a convergence of happy events, in which Pryor had had a hand, Cornelia had been able to enter the old and famous house of Paulette, then noticeably on the decline. Her artistic gifts and Kelly’s industry had rejuvenated the management and revived the glories of the Paulette tradition. In a little less than a year Cornelia and Kelly had bought out the aged proprietors of the firm. "No wonder I didn’t hear from her," said Janet. "All my letters came back unopened. I began to think she had turned her back on me." "Marriage has not changed her as much as that," said Pryor, smiling. "But I warn you that it has changed her a good deal."