"Yes, I heard him through the dumb-waiter shaft," says Mrs. Shaw. "But I
always borrow some youngsters for my poor widow act when I think I'm
being shadowed; so you needn't get peeved."

"Of course not. How silly of him!" I puts in. "There, Steele, that's all
straightened out, and here is the original Josie Vernon. What have you
got to suggest?"

He stares at me blank, and then takes another look at Mrs. Shaw. I'll
admit she wa'n't a fascinatin' sight.

"You don't mean," says he, whisperin' husky in my ear, "that you would
do anything for such a creature?"

"She's on the list, ain't she?" says I.

"Ye-e-es," he admits; "but----"

"Let's ask the lady herself for a few more details, so we can have
something definite to go on," says I. "Excuse us, Mrs. Shaw, for this
little side debate; but we ain't quite made up our minds about you yet.
Let's see--you was tellin' me about bringin' a breach of promise suit
against Pyramid, and how he ran you out of town. You had a good case
too, I expect?"

"What's the use of lying about it now?" says she. "It was a cheap bluff,
that's all; one of Mr. Shaw's brilliant schemes. Oh, he was a schemer,
Shaw was! Pretended to be a lawyer, Fletcher did, in those days. He was
smooth enough for one, but too lazy. I didn't know that when I married
him. What I didn't know about him then! But I learned. He thought he
could scare Mr. Gordon into settling for a few thousand. Of course my
claim was all bosh. Pyramid Gordon hardly knew I was in his office.
Besides, I was married, anyway. He didn't guess that. But the bluff
didn't work. We were the ones who were scared; scared stiff, too."

"H-m-m-m!" says I. "Not what you might call a pretty affair, was it?"

Mrs. Shaw don't wince at that. She just sneers cynical. "Life with
Fletcher Shaw wasn't pretty at any stage of the game," says she. "Say,
you don't think I picked my career, do you? True, I was only a girl; but
I wasn't quite a fool. You will laugh, I suppose, but at twenty-two I
had dreams, ambitions. I meant to be a woman doctor. I was teaching
physiology and chemistry in a high school up in Connecticut, where I was
born. In another year I could have begun my medical course. Then
Fletcher came along, with his curly brown hair, his happy, careless
smile, and his fascinating way of avoiding the truth. I gave up all my
hopes and plans to go with him. That's what a woman does when she
marries. I don't know why it should be so, but it is.