"Aha!" she said, laughing.
"Yes; he was traveling up Sixth Avenue the other night when a drunken conductor was very rude to two ladies. Bolton interfered, made the man behave himself, waited on the ladies across the street to their door as somebody else once did,—when, behold! a veil is raised, the light of the lamp flashes, and one says 'Mr. Bolton!' and the other 'Miss Simmons!' and the romance is opened."
"How perfectly charming! Of course he'll call and see her. He must, you know."
"That has proved the case in my experience."
"And all the rest will follow. They are made for each other. Poor Ida, she won't have Caroline to go to Paris with her!"
"No? I think she will. In fact I think it would be the best thing Caroline could do."
"You do! You don't want them to be married?"
"I don't know. I wouldn't say—in fact it's a case I wouldn't for the world decide."
"Oh, heavens! Here's a mystery, an obstacle, an unknown horror, and you can't tell me what it is, and I must not ask. Why, this is perfectly dreadful! It isn't anything against Bolton?"