t's odd that Medcroft
didn't tell me about you. Would you mind advancing a bit of general
information about yourself--and, I may say, about my family in general?
It may come handy."

"I feel as though I had known you for years," she said, frankly
returning his gaze. She leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her
chin in her hands. "I'm merely Edith's sister. We live in Paris,--that
is, father and I. I'm three years younger than Edith. Of course, you
know how old your wife is, so we won't dwell upon that. You don't? Then
I'd demand it of her. I haven't been in Philadelphia since I was
seven--and that's ages ago. I have no mother, and father is off in South
America on business. So, you see, little sister has to tag after big
sister. Oh!" She interrupted the recital with an abrupt change of
manner. "I'm so sorry you've finished your coffee. Now you'll have to
go. Roxbury always does."

"But I haven't finished," he exclaimed eagerly. "I'm going to have three
or four more pots. You have no idea how--"

"It's all right then," she said with her rarest and most confident
smile. "Well, Edith asked me to come to London for the season. The
Rodneys were in Paris at the time, however, and they had asked me to
join them for a fortnight in the Tyrol. When I said that I was off for a
visit with the--with you, I mean--they insisted that you all should come
too. They are connections, in a way, don't you see. So we accepted. And
here we are."

"You don't, by any chance, happen to be engaged to be married, or
anything of that sort," he ventured. "Don't crush me! It's only as a
safeguard, you know. People may ask questions."

"You are not obliged to answer them, Roxbury," she said. The flush had
deepened in her cheek. It convinced him that she _was_ in love--and
engaged. He experienced a queer sinking of the heart. "You can say that
you don't know, if anyone should be so rude as to ask." Suddenly she
caught her breath and stared at him in a sort of panic. "Heavens," she
whispered, the toast poised half-way to her lips, "_you_'re not, by any
chance, engaged, are you? Appalling thought!"

He laughed delightedly. "People won't ask about me, my dear Constance.
I'm already married, you know. But if anyone _should_ ask, you're not
obliged to answer."

She looked troubled and uncertain. "You may be really married, after
all," she speculated. "Who knows? Poor old Roxbury wouldn't have had the
tact to inquire."

"I am a henpecked bachel