And now, as Roland joined her, she smiled and greeted him. With her was a lady to whom she turned:
"Mrs. Metuchen, this is Mr. Mistrial."
And Roland found himself bowing to a little old woman elaborately dressed. She was, he presently discovered, a feather-head person, who gave herself the airs of a princesse en couches. But though not the rose, at least she dwelt near by. Her husband was Mr. Dunellen's partner; and to Justine, particularly since the death of her mother, she had become what the Germans, who have many a neat expression, term a Wahlverwandtschaft—a relation not of blood, but of choice. She was feather-headed, but she was a lady; she was absurd, but she was lovable; and by Justine she was evidently beloved.
Roland got her a seat, found a footstool for her, and pleased her very much by the interest which he displayed in her family tree.
"I knew all your people," she announced at last. And when she did so, her manner was so gracious that Roland felt the hour had not been thrown away.
During the rest of the day he managed to be frequently in her vicinity. The better part of the morrow he succeeded in sharing with Justine. And in the evening, when the latter bade him good-night, it occurred to him that if what Jones had said in regard to the cousin was true, then was the cousin losing ground.
The next morning Mrs. Metuchen and her charge returned to town. Roland followed in a later train. As he crossed the ferry he told himself he had much to do; and on reaching New York he picked up his valise with the air of one who has no time to lose.
III.
In a city like New York it is not an easy task, nor is it always a profitable one, to besiege a young person that is fortressed in her father's house. And when the house has a cousin for sentinel, and that cousin is jealous, the difficulty is increased. But, time and tact aiding, what obstacle may not be removed?