Miss Macfarlane.
Well, we mustn't ask why?
Mrs. Tremaine.
Oh, I'm in the humour for confession. I think you can understand. We got on well enough while I was—free. But he did the chivalrous thing—asked me to marry him; and I was glad enough to scramble back to the platform of respectability.
Miss Macfarlane.
Well, I understand that, anyhow.
Mrs. Tremaine.
That seemed to kill the romance, such as it was. I need not go into the sordid details, but we quarrelled finally about money—my money. My husband took to gambling in stocks. But I have managed to keep my little pittance, fortunately. Well, that is enough of my affairs. Have you any children, Constance?
Mrs. Denham.
One little girl, just nine. Have you any?