"Yes, I am," said Merriam.
"May I ask what the relationship is?"
Merriam told him.
"Thank you," said the priest. "The resemblance is really remarkable. And we saw you looking at Mrs. Norman. Do you know her?"
"Yes. I knew her before--before she--was married."
"I see. Thank you so much."
The inquisitive priest returned to his friends, who appeared to listen intently to his report.
At the same time Waiter No. 73 arrived with Merriam's steak and salad.
He ate self-consciously, feeling himself still under observation from the other table. But when he was half way through his salad his attention was effectually distracted from those watchers. For Mollie June and her companion had risen to go.
Merriam put down his fork and looked at her. She was really beautiful to any eyes--so fresh and young and alive amid the tawdry ennui of her surroundings, a human girl among the labouring ghosts of a danse macabre. To Merriam she was--what you will--radiant, divine. He wished he had not lost a moment from looking at her since he first saw her.