Osborne momentarily forgot his troubles in the company of this affable official. It was comforting, too, that his hospitality should be accepted. Somehow, he felt certain that Winter would have declined it if any particle of suspicion had been attached to the giver, and therein his knowledge of men did not deceive him. With a lighter heart, therefore, than he would have thought possible a few minutes earlier, he, too, lit a cigar.
Winter saw that Rupert was waiting for him to resume the conversation momentarily broken. He began with a straightforward question.
"Now, Mr. Osborne," he said, "will you kindly tell me if it is true that you were about to marry Mademoiselle de Bercy?"
"It is quite true."
"How long have you known her?"
"Since she came to London last fall."
"I suppose you made no inquiries as to her past life?"
"No, none. I never gave a thought to such a thing."
"I suppose you see now that it would have been wiser had you done something of the kind?"
"Wisdom and love seldom go hand in hand."