The Virginian's name had not been recently mentioned between them. There had been no agreement, tacit or otherwise, to that effect, but the wife had inferred that this was a topic which he was willing to have drop with the lapse of time out of their conversation. If he recurred to it now it must indicate that any vestiges of animus once entertained for Farquaharson had died. That was rather pleasing and generous, she thought. "Yes, quite old," she responded with a smile. Tollman nodded understandingly. A short while before he had been reading his Providence newspaper and a brief paragraph, which would otherwise have escaped his eye, had caught his attention like the red lantern at a railroad crossing--because it contained the name of Stuart Farquaharson. The lines were these: "'The Longest Way Round,' a comedy in three acts, by Stuart Farquaharson, will have its premiere at the Garrick Theater on Monday evening. After a road engagement the piece will be presented to Broadway early in the fall. The cast includes--" But Eben had not troubled about the cast. He was speculating just now upon whether his wife had seen the item--and if so whether she would speak of it. "I wonder what has become of him," he suggested speculatively, and Conscience shook her head as she answered, "It's been a long while since I've heard of him." If she had read the morning paper--and she usually read it--she must be lying. This circumstance the husband duly noted in the case which he was building up against her. "I dare say he rather dropped out, socially speaking, after his escapade with that New York woman," he volunteered. "It was a pity." "The reports we had about his conduct," defended Conscience with a straightforward glance, "were grossly untrue. He suffered the effects of the circumstantial out of consideration for her." "Indeed!" Tollman's voice was one of quickened interest, seemingly of pleased surprise. He was developing an excellent facility in the actor's art. "That is gratifying news. One likes to think well of an old friend, but how did you learn?" The woman bit her lip. She had made her assertion in so categorical a form that to withhold her authority now meant to appear absurd, and she had not wished to betray the confidence of Marian Holbury. So she fell back on the alternative of a partial explanation. "Mrs. Holbury herself explained the matter to me. It was a chapter of accidental appearances." Tollman was gazing at his wife with brows incredulously arched but his scepticism appeared amused--almost urbane. "But where in the world did you and Mrs. Holbury meet? Your orbits have no points of contact." "She was driving to Provincetown--and stopped here."