"Oh, yes, she's quite well off."
There was a pause, at the end of which he said, "Well, I—it beats me. Why do you suppose she wants him?" Then he added, feeling that he had failed in tact, in thus speaking of the man who, after all, was his companion's husband, and whom she wanted, in her queer way, to help. "Well, it beats me."
"Mr. Walbridge has always been considered a very handsome man," she said, in a voice of complete clarity and explanation. And then the door opened and Griselda came suddenly in, wrapped in a big fur-collared velvet cloak.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, on seeing Wick. "I didn't know anyone was here. They all went on to the opera," she said, sitting down and letting her cloak slip back, "and my head ached—I think I've a cold coming on—so I got a taxi and came home. How are you, Oliver, and how is your mother? I saw Jenny the other day, but I was in a taxi and she didn't see me."
"They're both well, thanks," he answered. "It's a long time since I saw you, young lady."
"Yes, it is."
There was a pause, and Mrs. Walbridge glanced anxiously from one to the other of the two painstakingly indifferent faces.
"No letters, mother?" the girl asked.
"Yes, there are two for you. One from Sir John."