"Widow!" laughed Murray-Kerr adjusting his monocle. "My dear boy, I'm perfectly with you; but then the fair Claudia is one in ten millions. She's more like a girl of eighteen, in face, figure, and the choice of lovers, than the usual prim and stale relict with whom we are all more or less familiar." "Just because she's popular, all this confounded gossip buzzes here, there, and everywhere. My name is coupled with hers, and all kinds of ridiculous stories have been started about us. I know, for too many of them have come to my ears." "Then if you know, Dudley, why don't you take my advice and cut her?" asked the old officer, fixing his host with his keen eyes. CHAPTER SIX. IN WHICH THE COLONEL GROWS MYSTERIOUS. Chisholm was silent. The two men exchanged glances. Since they were his best and most confidential friends, he could not be offended in the least at what they had said, especially as he knew quite well that they had spoken plain, hard facts. "Well," he said at last, in a metallic tone of voice, "the truth is, we have parted." "Then I cordially congratulate you, my dear fellow," declared the red-faced old colonel bluntly. "Forgive me, but you've been a fool over her, an absolute fool, and couldn't see that she was deceiving you on every hand. Men had begun to sneer and laugh at you behind your back-- and, by Jove! you've had a narrow escape of making a complete ass of yourself." "I know. I'm well aware of it," his host replied in a low tone. "But between ourselves, it's all over." "Why between ourselves?" inquired Benthall. "The world should, I think, know, for your own sake? _Pourquoi non_?" "No. I intend to keep it a secret--for her sake." Both men were silent. The conversation had, indeed, been a strange one to take place between a host and his guests. But both men saw that although Claudia and her lover had parted, there still lingered in Dudley Chisholm's heart tender thoughts of that pretty, callous woman who was one of the leaders of smart society in London. "Very well," said Murray-Kerr at length, after a brief period of silence. "If you wish us to say nothing, we can only obey. But, nevertheless, my dear old chap, I, for one, congratulate you most heartily upon your resolution. A man in your shoes can't afford to risk his reputation any longer. Forgive me for speaking as I have done, won't you?" "Certainly, my dear fellow," he answered with a bitter smile. "You've both spoken as friends, and I've told you the plain truth, so what more need be said?" "Nothing," said the colonel. "Stick to your resolution, and let Claudia Nevill proceed at her own sweet will. She'll marry some foreign notability or other, I expect, now that she's in search of big game. Then you'll be entirely free of her."