“Poor Dalky! I wonder if he knows of this?” cried Polly.
“He would have to, dear, because she would have to serve him with papers, you see,” explained Mrs. Courtney.
“And he never said a word to any one nor did he let us see he was disturbed in any way,” added Eleanor.
“Maybe the poor man is relieved to have it so. At least, he will be exempt from paying her such an outrageous income, you know. I take for granted that he will put in his defence, thus absolving himself from alimony,” explained Mrs. Courtney.
“It would be exactly like him to keep quiet and let that horrid woman get all she can. He is so magnanimous, you know, that he would think to himself ‘She was the mother of my children, and as such I must not deprive her of what she may need’.” Polly’s voice had a dual tone as she spoke: one of sympathy for Mr. Dalken, one of scorn for Mrs. Dalken.
Mrs. Courtney laughed softly. “I am getting my impressions of your friend in piece-meal. You have not yet told me about him.”
“That is because you’ve told us such astonishing news. But now I’ll tell you all about good old Dalky,” said Eleanor. “He is a handsome man of about forty-two or four, I think. Isn’t he, Polly?”
“Yes, about that age,” agreed Polly.
“Well, besides his being handsome and middle-aged, he is loving, awfully rich, both in money and good friends, and one of the most intelligent mortals I ever met!”
Eleanor’s description made Mrs. Courtney smile. “One would be led to think you had met all kinds and conditions of mortals in your long, long life, child,” remarked she.