“Not so much as might have been thought?”
“Not so much as was reported. I forget whether I was married when I saw you last.”
“It was one of the reports,” said Littlemore. “But I never saw Mr. Beck.”
“You didn’t lose much; he was too mean to live. I’ve done certain things in my life that I’ve never understood; no wonder others can’t do much with them. But that’s all over! Are you sure Max doesn’t hear?” she asked quickly.
“Not at all sure. But if you suspect him of listening at the keyhole I’d send him away.”
“I don’t think he does that. I’m always rushing to the door.”
“Then he doesn’t hear. I had no idea you had so many secrets. When I parted with you Mr. Headway was in the future.”
“Well, now he’s in the past. He was a pleasant man—I can understand my doing that. But he only lived a year. He had neuralgia of the heart; he left me very well off.” She mentioned these various facts as if they were quite of the same order.
“I’m glad to hear that. You used to have expensive tastes.”
“I’ve plenty of money,” said Mrs. Headway. “Mr. Headway had property at Denver, which has increased immensely in value. After his death I tried New York. But I don’t take much stock in New York.” Littlemore’s hostess spoke these last words in a tone that reeked of some strong experience. “I mean to live in Europe. I guess I can do with Europe,” she stated; and the manner of it had the touch of prophecy, as the other proposition had had the echo of history.