"Oh, that is because you have never known what it meant not to have wisdom," he retorted. "Tell me about everybody," he went on. "Your husband, he is well, of course, and distressfully rich. I heard of him in New York. And Page, our little, solemn Minerva of Dresden china?" "Oh, yes, Page is well, but you will hardly recognise her; such a young lady nowadays." "And Mr. Court, 'Landry'? I remember he always impressed me as though he had just had his hair cut; and the Cresslers, and Mrs. Wessels, and--" "All well. Mrs. Cressler will be delighted to hear you are back. Yes, everybody is well." "And, last of all, Mrs. Jadwin? But I needn't ask; I can see how well and happy you are." "And Mr. Corthell," she queried, "is also well and happy?" "Mr. Corthell," he responded, "is very well, and--tolerably--happy, thank you. One has lost a few illusions, but has managed to keep enough to grow old on. One's latter days are provided for." "I shouldn't imagine," she told him, "that one lost illusions in Tuscan gardens." "Quite right," he hastened to reply, smiling cheerfully. "One lost no illusions in Tuscany. One went there to cherish the few that yet remained. But," he added, without change of manner, "one begins to believe that even a lost illusion can be very beautiful sometimes--even in Chicago." "I want you to dine with us," said Laura. "You've hardly met my husband, and I think you will like some of our pictures. I will have all your old friends there, the Cresslers and Aunt Wess, and all. When can you come?" "Oh, didn't you get my note?" he asked. "I wrote you yesterday, asking if I might call to-night. You see, I am only in Chicago for a couple of days. I must go on to St. Louis to-morrow, and shall not be back for a week." "Note? No, I've had no note from you. Oh, I know what happened. Curtis left in a hurry this morning, and he swooped all the mail into his pocket the last moment. I knew some of my letters were with his. There's where your note went. But, never mind, it makes no difference now that we've met. Yes, by all means, come to-night--to dinner. We're not a bit formal. Curtis won't have it. We dine at six; and I'll try to get the others. Oh, but Page won't be there, I forgot. She and Landry Court are going to have dinner with Aunt Wess', and they are all going to a lecture afterwards." The artist expressed his appreciation and accepted her invitation. "Do you know where we live?" she demanded. "You know we've moved since." "Yes, I know," he told her. "I made up my mind to take a long walk here in the Park this morning, and I passed your house on my way out. You see, I had to look up your address in the directory before writing. Your house awed me, I confess, and the style is surprisingly good." "But tell me," asked Laura, "you never speak of yourself, what have you been doing since you went away?" "Nothing. Merely idling, and painting a little, and studying some thirteenth century glass in Avignon and Sienna."