She was occupying a seat in a Chestnut Street car, while Jonas stood in front with the driver, when a gentleman whom she had not observed, sitting at the other end of the car, espied her.
“Why, Mrs. Brent, how came you here?” he asked, in surprise, crossing over and taking a seat beside her.
Her color went and came as, in a subdued tone, she answered.
“I am in Philadelphia on a little visit, Mr. Pearson.”
“Are you not rather out of your latitude?” asked the gentleman.
“Yes, perhaps so.”
“How is Mr. Brent?”
“Did you not hear that he was dead?”
“No, indeed! I sympathize with you in your sad loss.”
“Yes,” sighed the widow. “It is a great loss to us.”