"Any man who is a man," replied Bristol earnestly, "could not but have a pardonable curiosity when so fair a woman as Mrs. Winslow claims his attention!"
"There, there," said she laughing, and extending her hands across the table as if in a burst of confidence, "let us wave formalities; let us be friends."
Bristol took her proffered hands rather stiffly, but held them as long as was necessary, as they were pretty hands, warm hands, and hands that could grasp another's with a good show of honesty, too.
"There is no reason why we shouldn't," he said gallantly, as she poured out another glass of wine.
"Only one," answered Mrs. Winslow archly. "The three Graces don't like me, and they are bound we sha'n't meet. Now," she continued, again tapping the table nervously with her fan, and then raising her fine eyebrows and looking at Bristol half anxiously, half tenderly, and altogether meltingly, "I feel as though we had been acquainted for years. Don't think me bold, Mr. Bristol, but I have had you in my thoughts much—possibly too much," she added with the faintest trace of a blush; "but if I could feel that this—I was going to say attachment, though that would be quite improper, and I will say—unexplainable regard I have formed for you was in the least measure reciprocated——"
Bristol interrupted her with: "I think I can assure you that it is, at least, in a proper measure."
"Then," she continued, apparently radiant with happiness, "as I was about to say, I am sure it could be arranged so that we could be more in each other's society. You know who I am?" she abruptly and almost suspiciously asked.
Bristol was almost put off his guard by the sudden change of the subject, but parried the question with: "Certainly not; at least no more than through what I have been told at the restaurant."
Tears started in her well-trained eyes, but she impetuously brushed them away and followed the pretty piece of acting with: "Oh, Mr. Bristol! I fear we may never be to each other what we might have been if these three old hags—I mean old maids—had not poisoned your mind regarding me. Let me tell you," and she took hold of his collar and drew the reluctant detective towards her, "they are trying to get your money—your vast wealth. Let a comparatively unknown friend whisper in your ear, 'Beware!'"
Bristol started, adjusted his glasses, grasped Mrs. Winslow's hand, and, as if very much frightened and extremely grateful, said heartily and with great fervor, "My dear madam, for this kindness I am yours to command!"