"No," repeated Freddy, "I shall never, never marry before Eleanor. It would mortify her--I know it would--and make her feel that she herself had failed. She's awfully frank about those things, Ezra--surprisingly frank. I don't see why being an old maid is always supposed to be so funny, do you? It's touching and tragic in a woman who'd like to marry and who isn't asked!" "But Eleanor must have had heaps of offers," I said, "surely--" "Just one." "Well, one's something," I remarked cheerfully. "Why didn't she take him then?" "She told me only last night that she was sorry she hadn't!" Here, at any rate, was something to chew on. I saw a gleam of hope. Why shouldn't Eleanor marry the only one--and make us all happy! "That was three years ago," said Freddy. "I have loved you for four," I retorted. I was cross with disappointment. To be dashed to the ground, you know, just as I was beginning--"Tell me some more about him," I went on. I'm a plain business man and hang on to an idea like a bulldog; once I get my teeth in they stay in, for all you may drag at me and wallop me with an umbrella--metaphorically speaking, of course. "Tell me his name, where he lives, and all." "We were coming back from Colorado, and there was some mistake about our tickets. They sold our Pullman drawing-room twice over--to Doctor Jones and his mother, and also to ourselves. You never saw such a fight--and that led to our making friends, and his proposing to Eleanor!" "Then why in Heaven's name didn't she" (it was on the tip of my tongue to say "jump at him") "take him?" "She said she couldn't marry a man who was her intellectual inferior." "And was he?" "Oh, he was a perfect idiot--but nice, and all that, and tremendously in love with her. Pity, wasn't it?" "The obvious thing to do is to chase him up instantly. Where did you say he lived?" "His mother told me he was going to New York to practice medicine." "But didn't you ever hear from him again? I mean, was that the end of it all?" "Yes." "Then you don't even know if he has married since?" "No!" "Nor died?" "No." "Nor anything at all?" "No." "What was his first name?" "Wait a moment ... let me think ... yes, it was Harry." "Just Harry Jones, then, New York City?" Freddy laughed forlornly. "But he must have had antecedents," I cried out. "There are two ways of doing this Sherlock Holmes business--backward and forward, you know. Let's take Doctor Jones backward. As they say in post-office forms?--what was his place of origin?" "New York City." "He begins there and ends there, does he, then?" "Yes." "But how sure are you that Eleanor would marry him if I did manage to find him and bring him back?" "I'm not sure at all." "No, but Freddy, listen--it's important. You told me yourself that she--I want the very identical words she used." Freddy reflected. "She said she was almost sorry she hadn't accepted that silly doctor!" "That doesn't seem much, does it?" I remarked gloomily.