She studied the woman for a space.
"Is that her husband behind her?" she asked, presently.
I smiled. "Very possibly," I said.
"Had she a husband when you knew her?" she persisted.
"Part of the time." I was a bit uncomfortable.
"And the man, yonder, is not he?"
"No," said I.
She gave me a sidelong glance. "And her name?" she asked.
"It used to be Madeline Spencer."
"You showed excellent taste, Armand—both in her looks and name." There was something of sarcasm in the tone.