"How far behind you are, to be sure; don't you even read the papers in Chicago? It was quite terrible at the time. She ran away with two other women's husbands in one season—separately, of course—and has consequently been forgotten, except by the men. She's a regular feminine Mormon. It's a strange coincidence, but her given name is Charity."
"Why a coincidence?"
"Because Charity covers a multitude of sins."
Illington frowned.
"Poor Mrs. Newlington—or whatever her name is now—she wasn't a bad sort, as I remember her."
"No; but isn't it among those not of the bad sort that the unexpected usually happens? Have you a list of the New York divorces in the past five years?"
"Of course not."
"My dear man, how can you expect to go about? You'll be calling women by forbidden names and embarrassing a lot of them. Let me give you a bit of advice: Don't ask after any man's wife—you may mean somebody else."
"And who is Mrs. Newlington, now?"
"I don't know—yesterday her name was Brown."
A heavy lady, in pale yellow panne velvet, was rustling out of the compartment immediately in front.
"Dear Mrs. Perigold," commented Camilla. "She's always contriving to spoil the social season, either by just sailing for Europe or just coming home. She came over last week in a towering rage at some affront in London—the Gideon girl, who married an earl, refused to recognize her or something; and now Mrs. Perigold is devastating her New York visiting list by way of revenge. But whom are you with to-night?"
"Some men from the club—it was dull there, and we decided to come."
"Were the windows inaccessible?"
"What do you mean?"
"I thought that all men did at a club was to sit in the windows and say smart things about the women that went by in carriages."
"Oh, there's only one club where they do that."
"What is the name of it?"
"I don't know; it's only to be read about in the society publications."
"You have clubs in Chicago?"
"Of course; they are maintained as an excuse for dress clothes and automobiles, just as you maintain the opera here for the same purposes."
"But what is the difference between New York and Chicago clubs?"
"Merely a figure of speech. In New York the club is an objective point where your driver may 'set you down.' In Chicago he also 'assists you to your room.'"
"Seriously, Mr. Illington, why have you come out of the wilderness? Have you made a lot of money? And are you taking supper at Mrs. Trenton's after the opera?"
"Because I'm weary of the wilderness alone; not a great deal—and yes—the last is the most important, because Mrs. Trenton tells me you will be there."
"Naturally, since I'm stopping with Mrs. Trenton while father is abroad. Why do you consider that important?"
"Because I'd like your views on the wilderness, and"—dropping his voice—"the hostess."
"Is it the custom to discuss the hostess where you come from?"
"Nothing, as a rule, pleases her more. Why did Mildred Porter marry Jack Trenton?"
"For any number of reasons, I suppose. And as for Brent, if that's what you mean, one cannot be expected to be always thinking of a tombstone. And I don't know that any woman of Mildred's sort is required to become a spinster through sheer sentiment. I don't fancy that it would be wise of you to recall any un- pleasant obituary memories during a state of honeymoon. For it amounts to that, although they have been married five months—which is, no doubt, an eternally long time in Chicago."
Illington drew nearer.
