When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain proved to be at home, and as his good looks had made a deep impression on her, she received him at once. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished drawing-room without delay, and welcomed by pretty Mrs. Vrain herself, who came forward with a bright smile and outstretched hands, looking more charming than ever.
"Well, I do call this real sweet of you," said she gaily. "I guess it is about time you showed up. But you don't look well, that's a fact. What's wrong?"
"I'm worried a little," replied Lucian, confounded by her coolness.
"That's no use, Mr. Denzil. You should never be worried. I guess I don't let anything put me out."
"Not even your husband's death?"
"That's rude!" said Lydia sharply, the colour leaving her cheek. "What do you mean? Have you come to be nasty?"
"I came to return you this," said Denzil, throwing the cloak which he had carried on his arm before the widow.
"This?" echoed Mrs. Vrain, looking at it. "Well, what's this old thing got to do with me?"
"It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!"
"Did I? And where's Jersey Street?"