"Richard is ten years older than Victor. If she could have got him now,—but—" Mrs. Van Dorn tossed her pretty head—"I don't believe anybody will ever capture Richard De Jarnette, unless—"
The sentence was unfinished, but she looked demurely at the lavender reflection in the mirror opposite. It is hard for a woman to forget a man who has once been at her feet.
After a long silence Mrs. Pennybacker, who had evidently been pondering something, said abruptly, "Maria, where did you say Margaret's new home was? I think I shall go to see her this afternoon."
"Why, Aunt Mary, you can't. She isn't at home until September."
"But I am going away tomorrow. I can't hang around here till September. And I am an old, old friend of her mother's. Don't you think she would excuse the informality under the circumstances?"
"Certainly not. You oughtn't to think of going."
"Very well," said Mrs. Pennybacker, "perhaps you are right. What did you say was her number? I may want to write to her some time."
She acquiesced in the proposed restriction of her movements without further remonstrance and an hour later sallied forth, address in hand, to find Margaret De Jarnette.
"That's always the best way to conduct a discussion with Maria," she said to herself. "It saves time and temper."