"What is the amount, do you know?"
"Upwards of two hundred thousand, Mr. de Vaux thinks."
"Miss Wyllys is certainly no beauty; but, do you know, I think there is something decidedly distinguished in her appearance and manner! I was only introduced the other day; I did not happen to know the Wyllyses."
"I have known them all my life, and like them all very much. I rather wonder, though, at Miss Elinor's being here as bride's-maid. But it is a reconciliation, I suppose. Perhaps she and young Hazlehurst will make up again, and we may be invited to another wedding, before long."
"Perhaps so. How long does it take a young lady to resent an infidelity? A calendar month, I suppose; or, in extreme cases, a year and a day. By-the-bye, the pretty widow, Mrs. Creighton, has thrown off her weeds, I see."
"Yes, she has come out again, armed for conquest, I suppose. What a flirt she is! And as artful as she is pretty, Mr. Stryker. But perhaps you are one of her admirers," continued the lady, laughing.
"Of course, it is impossible not to admire her; but I am afraid of her," said Mr. Stryker, shrugging his shoulders. "I am horribly afraid of all pretty widows."
"Mr. Hazlehurst does not seem afraid of her."
"Not a bit—he is there half his time; but then he is young and venturesome. We old campaigners are more wary."
"He is an old friend of her brother's, I believe; is Mr.
Ellsworth here?"