The warmth with which Barbara greeted me when I made my first appearance at her flat struck me as rather pathetic, and for the first time I seemed to understand what it was that had induced her to marry Harold Monkhouse. She was not a solitary woman by nature and she had never been used to a solitary existence. When Stella’s death had broken up her home and left her with no intimate friend in the world but me, I had been too much taken up with my own bereavement to give much consideration to her. But now, as she stood before me in her pretty sitting room, holding both my hands and smiling her welcome, it was suddenly borne in on me that her state was rather forlorn in spite of her really comfortable means. Indeed, my heart prompted me to some demonstrations of affection and I was restrained only by the caution of a confirmed bachelor. For Barbara was now a widow; and even while my sympathy with my almost life-long friend tempted me to pet her a little, some faint echoes of Mr. Tony Weller’s counsels bade me beware.
“You are quite an anchoress here, Barbara,” I said, “though you have a mighty comfortable cell. I see you have a new maid, too. I should have thought you would have brought Mabel with you.”
“She wouldn’t come—naturally. She said she preferred to go and live among strangers and forget what had happened at Hilborough Square. Poor Mabel! She was very brave and good, but it was a terrible experience for her.”
“Do you know what has become of her?”
“No. She has disappeared completely. Of course, she has never applied for a reference.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“My dear Rupert,” she replied a little bitterly, “do you suppose that she would want to advertise her connection with Mrs. Harold Monkhouse?”
“No, I suppose she would be likely to exaggerate the publicity of the affair, as I think you do. And how is Madeline? I rather expected that you and she would have shared a flat. Why didn’t you?”
Barbara was disposed to be evasive. “I don’t know,” she replied, “that the plan commended itself to either of us. We have our separate interests, you know. At any rate, she never made any such suggestion and neither did I.”
“Do you ever see Wallingford now?” I asked.