Hart shook his head.
"Well, Mrs. Phillips does. He lives out in Forest Park, where she's thinking of building a big house."
"Is Mrs. Phillips thinking of building in Forest Park?" the architect asked quickly.
Harris looked at him in a bored manner.
"Why, I thought you were going to draw the plans!"
"She asked me to come to see her," Hart admitted. "But that was all. I thought it was just a social matter."
"Well, if a rich and good-looking woman asked me to call on her, I shouldn't take all year about making up my mind!"
Jackson could not help thinking that it would be more embarrassing to call on the widow now than if he had not had this talk with the broker. His relations with Mrs. Phillips in Paris had been pleasant, unalloyed with business. He remembered how he had rather patronized the ambitious young woman, who had desired to meet artists, to go to their studios, and to give little dinners where every one talked French but her stupid husband.
"The widow Phillips thinks a lot of your ability, Jackie, and old S.P.R. thinks a lot of the widow. Now do you see?"
The architect laughed nervously. He could see plainly enough what was meant, but he did not like it altogether.