“Whom did he marry?” asked Leila, laughing.
“A girl named Questa Terrett. You never heard of her, did you?”
“No. And I can imagine the moans and groans of the Mortimer Wardners.”
“I have heard so. She lives––they live now, together, in Abdingdon Square, where she possesses a studio and nearly a dozen West Highland terriers.”
“What else does she do?” inquired Leila, still laughing.
“She writes cleverly when she needs an income; otherwise, she produces obscure poems with malice aforethought, and laughs in her sleeve, they say, when the precious-minded rave.”
Leila reverted to Estridge:
“I had no idea he was married,” she said. “Palla Dumont introduced his widow to me the other day––a most superb and beautiful creature. But, oh dear I––can you fancy her having once served as a girl-soldier in the Russian Battalion of Death!”
The slightest shadow crossed Elorn’s face.