"One. She left him at their place in Virginia. I saw his picture. A beauty, of course."
Mrs. Ballinger raised her pencilled eyebrows and glanced at Maria. Mrs.
Abbott gave a deep rumbling groan.
"Poor Howard!"
"He dreed his weird," said Mrs. McLane indifferently. "He couldn't help it. Neither could Madeleine."
"Well, I'd like to hear something more about Langdon Masters," announced Guadalupe Bascom. "That is, if you have all satisfied your curiosity about Madeleine's clothes. He is the one man I never could twist around my finger and I've never forgotten him. How does he look? He certainly should carry some stamp of the life he led."
"Oh, he looks older, of course, and he has deeper lines and some gray hairs. But he's thin, at least. His figure did not suffer if his face did—somewhat. He looks even more interesting—at least women would think so. You know we good women always have a fatal weakness for the man who has lived too much."
"Speak for yourself, Antoinette." Mrs. Ballinger looked like an effigy of virtue in silver. "And at your age you should be ashamed to utter such a sentiment even if you felt it."
"My hair may be as white as yours," rejoined Mrs. McLane tartly. "But I remain a woman, and for that reason attract men to this day."
"Is Masters as brilliant as ever—in conversation, I mean? Is he gay?
Lively?"
"I cannot say that I found him gay, and I really saw very little of him except at functions. He was very busy. But Mr. McLane was with him a good deal, and said that although he was rather grim and quiet at times, at others he was as brilliant as his letters."