"What is the matter with you this evening? You seem quite distraite."
"I saw a ghost to-day." She spoke without moving.
Mrs. Wentworth's face took on more interest.
"What do you mean? Who was it?"
"I mean I saw a ghost; I might say two ghosts, for I saw in imagination also the ghost of myself as I was when a girl. I saw the man I was in love with when I was seventeen."
"I thought you were in love with Ferdy then?"
"No; never." She spoke with sudden emphasis.
"How interesting! And you congratulated yourself on your escape? We always do. I was violently in love with a little hotel clerk, with oily hair, a snub-nose, and a waxed black moustache, in the Adirondacks when I was that age."
Mrs. Lancaster made no reply to this, and her hostess looked at her keenly.
"Where was it? How long before--?" She started to ask, how long before she was married, but caught herself. "What did he look like? He must have been good-looking, or you would not be so pensive."