"No, I think not," Vera said. "I believe he is in England. Was he—at all upset by your marriage, Juliet?"
Juliet laughed a little. "Oh, not in the least. He keeps his heart in a very air-tight compartment I assure you. I have never had the faintest glimpse of it."
"But you are fond of him," said Vera shrewdly.
"Oh yes, quite fond of him," Juliet's eyes had a kindly softness. "I have never yet met the woman who wasn't fond of Charles Rex," she said.
"Does—your husband like him?" asked Vera.
Juliet shook her head quizzically. "No. Husbands don't as a rule."
"Something of a poacher?" questioned Vera.
"Oh, not really. Not since he grew up. I believe he was very giddy in his youth, and then a girl he really cared for disappointed him. So the story runs. I can't vouch for the truth of it, or even whether he ever seriously cared for her. But he has certainly never been in earnest since."
"What about Lady Joanna Farringmore?" said Vera suddenly.
Juliet was standing before the fire. She bent slightly, the warm glow softly tinging her white neck. "I should have thought that old fable might have died a natural death by this time," she said.