'I don't think he has any. I've never met them, and he's never spoken of them to me. I've heard him say that his mother died before his father, and that his father and he didn't get on.' 'They did not.' I wondered how she knew. 'By the way, what is your Christian name?' 'Mary, miss.' 'Mary? A good old-fashioned name. I love it. You look sweet and pure enough even to be a Mary.' I wished she wouldn't talk like that; she made me tingle. 'I am Edith Desmond. Have you ever heard the name?' 'Not that I remember, miss; and I don't think I should have forgotten if I had.' 'I am going to ask you a strange question; especially coming from a stranger. But I want you to tell me; do you love your husband?' 'Love him!' I felt a catching of my breath. The idea of her asking if I loved him! 'There's nothing I wouldn't do for love of him. He's my man.' 'Your man? That's another good old-fashioned word. Your man!' She seemed to hesitate before she spoke again. 'Have you--have you your husband's photograph?' 'Heaps, miss. He's always having them taken. I think it's something to do with his profession.' I went to the drawer, and took out a pile. The first she looked at she gave a start. She put her lips together, and a hard look came on her face. She looked older, and not so beautiful as she sat staring at my James's portrait, as if she was looking at a ghost. It was quite a minute before she spoke; and then it was to herself rather than to me. 'It's he. I wonder what it all means.' The way she'd changed made me half-afraid of her; but I plucked up courage to put a question which was slipping, as it were, off the tip of my tongue. 'Begging your pardon, miss, but--do you know my James?' 'Once I knew him very well. He was--he was a friend of my family.' My heart gave a jump against my ribs. 'Then he was a gentleman? I always knew he was a gentleman! That makes it all the more wonderful that he should ever have married me.' Her lips twisted themselves up in a way I didn't like. 'There was nothing wonderful in that. You might have married any one you liked, if you had known how to play your cards, my dear.' She kept looking at the likenesses, one after the other. 'He makes a good photograph; he comes out well in all of them. And in appearance, he doesn't seem to have materially changed.' 'He hasn't changed one bit since the day that first I saw him.' When she'd seen all the likenesses she began to tap against the table with the edge of one, as if she was turning something over in her mind. 'Mary?' 'Yes, miss.' 'Don't call me miss. Call me--well, there'll be time enough for that.' She smiled--though what at I could not say. 'What should you do if you met with a sudden change of fortune?' 'I shouldn't mind being poorer, with James.' 'I don't mean in that direction, but in the other. What should you say at being richer?' 'Thank you, miss.' She laughed. 'Is that all?'