"Who is Eleanor Leigh in love with?" asked some one irrelevantly—a Mrs. Arrow—whose mind appeared much given to dwelling on such problems. She addressed the company generally, and possibly my former neighbor at the table in particular.
"Is she in love?" asked another.
"Certainly, I never saw any one so changed. Why, she has been moping so I scarcely know her—and she has taken to charity. That's a sure sign. I think it must be that young preacher she talks so much about."
"Well, I don't know who she is in love with," said the lady who had sat next to me at dinner, "but I know who she is going to marry. She is going to marry Jim Canter. Her aunt has made that match."
"Oh! do you think so?" demanded our hostess, who had joined the group. "I don't believe she will marry any one she is not in love with, and I can't believe she is in love with that fat, coarse, dissipated creature. He is simply repulsive to me."
I began to conceive an even higher opinion of my hostess than I had already had.
"I don't think it is anybody," continued our hostess.
"Oh! yes, you do—you think it is Doctor Capon."
"Doctor Capon! It is much more likely to be Mr. Marvel."
"Mr. Marvel! Who is he?—Oh, yes, the young preacher who turned Jew and was put out of his church. I remember now."