"Oh, well," interrupted the widow impatiently, "I like mushroom love affairs. I like a man who can fling himself headlong into an affair and——"
"Of course you do!" sighed the bachelor, "every woman does. The sensible and temperate man who will love her all his life——"
"A little!" said the widow contemptuously.
"Well, a little is enough," retorted the bachelor, "at a time."
"That depends," said the widow, "on how many times—one is loved. There are some women who are so saving of their sugar and frugal with their sentiment that they never know the real joy of a grand passion or of having a man love them properly. What's the use of having money if you are always going to keep it in the bank?" she added conclusively.
The bachelor looked down at her and said nothing. There was a smile of hopeless resignation in his eyes.
"Here we are!" cried the widow, suddenly stopping in front of a tall brownstone house and holding out her hand politely. "So glad to have——"
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" demanded the bachelor, in astonishment.
The widow lifted her eyebrows in faint surprise.
"What," she asked sweetly, "after——"