"Yes."

She wrote a few lines on a card, put it in an envelope, and handed it to
Woodridge. "Find out where Sylvester is in San Francisco, and give him
that card. I think it will satisfy you. And now as I have to catch the
return coach in ten minutes, I must ask you to excuse me while I put my
things together."

"And you won't first break the news to Reddy for me?"

"No; and I advise you to keep the whole matter to yourself for the
present. Good-by!"

She smiled again, fascinatingly as usual, but, as it seemed to him, a
trifle wearily, and then passed into the inner room. Years after, in his
practical, matter of fact recollections of this strange woman, he always
remembered her by this smile.

But she had sufficiently impressed him by her parting adjuration to
cause him to answer Reddy's eager inquiries with the statement that
Kelly and her mother were greatly preoccupied with some friends in
San Francisco, and to speedily escape further questioning. Reddy's
disappointment was somewhat mitigated by the simultaneous announcement
of Mrs. Merrydew's departure. But he was still more relieved and
gratified to hear, a few days later, of the marriage of Mrs. Merrydew
with Louis Sylvester. If, to the general surprise and comment it
excited, he contributed only a smile of cynical toleration and superior
self-complacency, the reader will understand and not blame him. Nor did
the public, who knew the austere completeness of his reform. Nor did Mr.