"No, of course not; though God knows what we'd do for news without 'em."
As they entered the house Mrs. Neff saw Forbes. He was in his military full dress, and he was standing alone in a reverie. He was as solitary in the crowd as if he were a statue on a battle-field gazing through eyes of bronze.
"There's our little snojer man," said Winifred.
"So it is," said Mrs. Neff, struggling toward him through a sort of panic of complexly moving groups. "How is the dear boy? Paris has swept him off his feet, eh?"
"He's the melancholiest man here—the ghost of the boulevards."
"It's too bad," said Mrs. Neff. "He was the man for Persis." She reached his side, took his hand, and laughed up into his face. He came out of a dream and stared at her foggily, then answered the warm clench of her little fingers. She said:
"And what are you staring at so hard?—Mrs. Enslee?"
He started at the name—"Mrs. Enslee?"
"Yes, Persis. You haven't forgotten her so soon?"
"Oh no, of course not. But she isn't here?"