She was chaperoning some of the younger girls in town one day, when she met him on the street. She was surprised by the encounter, for she had not known he was in Washington; and she bowed uncertainly, expecting him to be a little embarrassed.
But he stopped, and held out his hand with evident pleasure. "Mrs. Blair! you?" he exclaimed. "What wonderful luck brings you to Washington? and where are you stopping?"
Joan briefly explained.
"Then," he said with a notable accession of eagerness, "Mr. Blair is not with you?"
Some long-slumbering imp of malice awoke and stirred in Joan. His expression as he looked her up and down was unmistakable. Evidently matrimony had detracted nothing from her in his eyes. On the contrary.
"No, Mr. Blair is not with me," she replied demurely. "I am on a vacation. Why should one carry a husband about on a vacation?"
This was Longmeadow language, the native tongue of Mr. Desmond.
"Why, indeed?" he murmured. "And when am I to come to see you?"
"I'm not sure you are to come at all. We're not allowed masculine callers at the Convent, I think; are we, dear?" she asked the young girl nearest to her.
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Blair!—on Wednesday afternoons, if they're brothers or cousins or anything like that," replied the child shyly.