During our conversation, which I should hardly dare to repeat, it was so very odd, she told me that she was very glad to have found another friend, for now she had three, besides her husband.
"And who are the other two, my dear?" I asked her.
"One is Sue, that is a woman," she answered, "and the other is Jerry, that is a man."
"Jerry? Jerry?" I repeated, for it sounded strangely familiar.
"Yes. Do you know him, too?" she asked eagerly.
"I am afraid not," I said, "but it so happens that I once knew a baby boy whom his mother called Jerry many years ago, in England."
"My Jerry gave me this pearl," she said, and she showed me a beautiful pearl which she wore.
"I do not think it likely that the Jerry I knew would be able to afford such presents," I said rather stiffly. You must know, Mr. Jerrolds, that we are still old-fashioned in our ideas in England, and fail to realise the quick growth of your amazing American fortunes!
She persisted, however, and to quiet her I told her that "my Jerry's" right name was Winfred Jerrolds. When she assured me that it was "her Jerry" and described your appearance (exactly your father's, except that he required a pince-nez), I began to believe in the strange coincidence, and readily agreed to go home with her. She lived in a charming appartement (I have forgotten the street, but they were au cinquieme, and there was a queer little hydraulic lift, which I refused to use, preferring my own feet) and she did the honours of it very prettily, upon the whole, like a child that is just learning, looking to her maid constantly for approval.
This, frankly, did not seem right to me, Mr. Jerrolds. I may be old-fashioned, but I cannot think that a woman should learn etiquette from her maid, and I must have showed my feeling in my face, for the girl, a capable one, I must say, blushed and said that in her opinion Madame required a governess, a chaperon, as it were, and that she believed Monsieur had it in his mind also. I could not help exclaiming that I knew of the very person, and most officiously, I know, I wrote down the address of a second cousin of mine, once removed, then in Paris by the merest chance.