"You must remember always that I have not taken you to task for a most flagrant piece of--shall I say indiscretion?" "Good Heavens!" "You stopped off at Fossingford for the sole purpose of seeing another woman." "That's all very fine, dear, but you'll admit that Dudley was an excellent substitute for Havens. Can't you see how easy it was to be mistaken?" "I won't fall into easy submission. Still, I believe I could recommend you as a detective. They usually do the most unheard of things--just as you have. Poor Jim Dudley an actor! Mistaken for such a man as you say Havens is! It is even more ridiculous than that I should be mistaken for Mrs. Wharton." "Say, I'd like to know something about Dudley. It was his confounded devotion to you that helped matters along in my mind. What is he to you?" "He came here to-night to repeat a question that had been answered unalterably once before. Jim Dudley? Have you never heard of James Dudley, the man who owns all of those big mines in South America, the man who--" "Who owns the yachts and automobiles and--and the railroad trains? Is he the one? The man with the millions? Good Lord! And you could have had him instead of me? Helen, I--I don't understand it. Why didn't you take him?" She hesitated a moment before answering brightly: "Perhaps it is because I have a fancy for the ridiculous." THE END End of Project Gutenberg's The Purple Parasol, by George Barr McCutcheon