"But, of course, I knew you were, the moment I read your Booklets. Have you a cigarette?"
"I beg your pardon."
Madame Eulalie selected a cigarette from his case and lit it. Hamilton Beamish, taking the match from her fingers, blew it out and placed it reverently in his left top waistcoat-pocket.
"Go on," said Madame Eulalie.
"Ah, yes," said Hamilton Beamish, coming out of his thoughts. "We were speaking about George. It appears that George, before he left East Gilead, had what he calls an understanding, but which seems to me to have differed in no respect from a definite engagement, with a girl named May Stubbs. Unpleasant name!"
"Horrible. Just the sort of name I would want to change."
"He then came into money, left for New York, and forgot all about her."
"But she didn't forget all about him?"
"Apparently not. I picture her as a poor, dowdy little thing—you know what these village girls are—without any likelihood of getting another husband. So she has clung to her one chance. I suppose she thinks that by coming here at this time she will force George to marry her."
"But you are going to be too clever to let anything like that happen?"