”No, of course not; who would marry such a bundle of sentiment? She often boasts of you, though, as the young Carolinian she flirted with.”
”I met Mr. Marshman very unexpectedly down at your store to-day,” I said, not caring to correct little Miss Finnock’s boast.
”Marshman? Yes, he’s selling there for us on a small salary—the best we could give him though. The old fellow got beaten, took to his cups and went to the bad very fast. They say his wife has to work hard to support herself and child, while he drinks up what he gets at our house. My mother sends them supplies very often, though she has not visited them, you know, since they left the top.”
”Have you a check book here?” I asked, with a sudden resolution.
”Yes,” he replied, handing me one from his escritoire.
”Will you do me the favor to get that to Mrs. Marshman,” I said, filling up the check for a good round sum and giving it to him. ”Please draw the money and send it to her so that my name will not be known in the matter, and do not let Marshman touch any of it.”
”James shall attend to it to-morrow. But stay and dine with me. We’ll drive out to Harlem, and get back to dinner at six.”
”Thanks, I must return to my hotel, as I have an engagement there. Dine with me to-morrow. I am at the Fifth Avenue.”
”Would be happy. The Sillery’s very fine there, but I dine our Club on my yacht to-morrow. Speaking of La Belle Louise,” he continued, following me down to the door, ”Madame Dubourg told me she gets letters from North Carolina, and that she is continually sending money to Italy to complete a monument to go over some poor devil of a deserter from the rebel army, who was killed down there. Did you ever hear of her before?”
”La Belle Louise? I never heard the name till you mentioned it,” I said.