"When he started out to make his fortune, about fifteen years ago."
"Then I'm sure it has run out of his system long since," she laughed. "He ought to be very susceptible."
"I'm afraid you're right," Huntington sighed. "Of course, Connie has a strong, robust constitution and he may pull through, but I will admit that I've seen symptoms lately which cause me some anxiety. Did you notice anything while you were out driving?"
"I noticed a good many things, but nothing which would contribute to the subject you mention. He was about as responsive as the wrong side of a mirror, but I talked at him until he had to say something in self-defense."
"Dear me!" Huntington held up his hands deprecatingly. "That is one of the worst symptoms possible. I had no idea that it had gone as far as that. You and I must take Connie in hand."
"Who is the girl?" Edith demanded abruptly.
"Ah! I am counting on you to help me find out."
"It all must have happened before you came down here."
"On the contrary; Connie was quite himself until he reached Bermuda. Since then—"