“Oh, he’s a queer fish. Doing rather better lately. They tied the can to him socially when he got involved in that Hubbell scandal.
“Mrs. Hubbell’s back, isn’t she?”
The man nodded. “And charming as ever in her mourning clothes. She says, I believe, that her great sorrow is not that her husband died but that he died insane—because otherwise she can not explain his suing for divorce and his suicide. She says, ‘Poor Jack. He must have been quite insane!’ very touchingly. She gets away with it.
“Langley still in her train?”
“Trust her. I suppose so. But Langley’s all right. He’s been doing damned good writing lately. Now if he could get a job on a newspaper somewhere else, I believe he’d go far. Here, of course, he got off with the wrong foot.”
“Must be thirty-five or six—1904, wasn’t he at the University?”
“Yes—about that. Well, that’s not too late for a man to begin to make real headway. If he married the right woman. It’s marriage these queer ducks need, you know.”
Wentworth agreed.
“Still, he’s hardly the right man for a young girl and——”
“No—not a match for youth and innocence—not Jim Langley. However, that’s the kind they usually pick.”