Mrs. Westerfield's destination was the public-house in which she
had been once employed as a barmaid. Entering the place without
hesitation, she sent in her card to the landlord. He opened the
parlor door himself and invited her to walk in.

"You wear well," he said, admiring her. "Have you come back here
to be my barmaid again?"

"Do you think I am reduced to that?" she answered.

"Well, my dear, more unlikely things have happened. They tell me
you depend for your income on Lord Le Basque--and his lordship's
death was in the newspapers last week."

"And his lordship's lawyers continue my allowance."

Having smartly set the landlord right in those words, she had not
thought it necessary to add that Lady Le Basque, continuing the
allowance at her husband's request, had also notified that it
would cease if Mrs. Westerfield married again.

"You're a lucky woman," the landlord remarked. "Well, I'm glad to
see you. What will you take to drink?"

"Nothing, thank you. I want to know if you have heard anything
lately of James Bellbridge?"

The landlord was a popular person in his own circle--not
accustomed to restrain himself when he saw his way to a joke.
"Here's constancy!" he said. "She's sweet on James, after having