"Oh, I never like it. I grew weary of it long ago. Men are all so dreadfully alike. Unless you are going to be different, I—Are you going to be different?"
"I'm heart-broken," said Carleigh, not quite seriously. "Perhaps that constitutes a difference."
"I know exactly how it feels to be heart-broken." She nodded wisely. "You feel that it will kill you; but it doesn't. The third day one takes pudding, as usual."
"Tell me," he pleaded suddenly, "did you love your husband?"
"Oh, no," she answered with emphasis. "What a stupid question!"
"What went on before he died?"
She laughed. "Lots," was her laconic answer.
"Were you very lonely?"
"No. I had compensation."
He felt a violent throb through all his veins.