“And that’s gone now,” said the gentleman.
“You’ll have to get out at the same station with us,” said the lady, her manner kindness itself and at the same time absolute.
“I think you have claims on us, anyhow, that we’d like to pay.”
“Oh! impossible,” said Mary. “You’re certainly mistaking me.”
“I think you have,” insisted the lady; “that is, if your name is Richling.”
Mary blushed.
“I don’t think you know my husband,” she said; “he lives a long way from here.”
“In New Orleans?” asked the gentleman.
“Yes, sir,” said Mary, boldly. She couldn’t fear such good faces.
“His first name is John, isn’t it?”