ink about." With the finality of
this reply the brief conversation dropped, though the perception on
Derek's part that it was not from her inability to carry it on stirred
him to an unusual feeling of pique. Most of the women he met were ready
to entertain him without putting him to any exertion whatever. They even
went so far as to manifest a disposition to be agreeable, before which
he often found it necessary to retire. Without being fatuous on the
point, he could not be unaware of the general conviction that a wealthy
widower, who could still call himself young, must be in want of a wife;
and as long as he was unconscious of the need himself, he judged it wise
to be as little as possible in feminine society. On the rare occasions
when he ventured therein he was not able to complain of a lack of
welcome; nor could he remember an instance in which his hesitating,
somewhat scornful, advances had not been cordially met, until to-day.
The immediate effect was to cause him to look at Diane with a closer, if
somewhat haughty, attention, their eyes meeting as he did so. Her voice,
with its blending of French and Irish elements, had already made its
appeal to his memory, so that the minute was one in which the
presentiment of recognition came before the recognition itself. In his
surprise he half arose from his chair, resuming his seat as he
exclaimed:

"It's Mademoiselle de la Ferronaise!"

His astonished tone and awe-struck manner called to Diane's lips a
little smile.

"It used to be," she said, trying to speak naturally; "it's Mrs. Eveleth
now."

"Yes," he responded, with the absent air of a man getting his wits
together; "I remember; that was the name."

"You knew, then, that I'd been married?"

"Yes; but I didn't know--"

His glance at her dress finished the sentence, and she hastened to
reply.

"No; of course not. My husband died at the beginning of last summer--six
months ago. I hoped some one would have told you before we met. But we
have not many common acquaintances, have we?"

"I hope we may have more now--if you're making a visit to New York."

"I'm making more than a visit; I expect to stay."

"Oh! Do you think you'll like that?"

"It isn't a question of liking; it's a question of living. I may as well
tell you at once that since my husband's death I have my own bread to
earn."

To no Frenchwoman of her rank in life could this statement have been an
easy one, but by making it with a certain qu