“I liked him so much,” said Gertrude.  “He says such bright, sensible things:  he’s so original.  Some men are good to dance, and some are good to talk:  he’s good for both.”

“I heard him when he asked for an introduction to you,” said Brother Tom.  “He designated you as the young lady in the blonde dress:  then he said, ’Her dress is exquisite—­just the color of golden hair.  I never saw a more beautiful toilette.’”

“Isn’t that delightful?” cried Gertrude in a transport.  “You precious old Tom, to hear that!  I’ll give you a kiss for it.”

“I wonder,” said Brother Tom, recovering, “if he can be the same Falconer I’ve heard the boys talk about?”

Susan had been hearing in an indolent way the talk between Tom and Gertrude, but now her heart was bounding, and she was listening intently.

“They tell about a Falconer who holds rather suspicious relations with a handsome woman somewhere in the city.  He rents a house for her where she lives all alone, except that there’s a baby and a servant-girl.”

Alas for Susan! she knew but too well that this was her Mr. Falconer.

Tom continued:  “The fellows have quizzed him about his lady, and have tried to find out who she is, and how he’s connected with her, but he’s close as a clam about the matter.”

“Perhaps it’s a widowed sister,” Gertrude suggested.

“Then why doesn’t he say so? and why doesn’t he go there and live with her, instead of boarding at a hotel? and why doesn’t she ever go out with him?  They say she never goes out at all, but keeps hid away there like a criminal.”

“I’d like to know how the fellows, as you call them, could have found all this out unless they employ spies?” Gertrude spoke testily, feeling a strong inclination to stand up for the man who had paid her a handsome compliment.  “There probably are two Falconers.  I know there’s nothing wrong about my Mr. Falconer, otherwise Mr. Richmond wouldn’t have introduced him to me.”

“I wish I had thought to inquire if he’s the man, but till this moment I’ve not thought of that talk of the boys since I heard it.  It takes women to remember scandal and repeat it,” said Brother Tom sagely.  “But I’ll inquire about it, Gerty.  Don’t go to dreaming about Mr. Falconer till I find out.”

“Hold your tongue, you great idjiot!” said Gertrude, wrapping with lazy grace a bright shawl about her and settling herself on a sofa to nap off the party drowsiness.  “Go on down town and find out,” she continued, her heavily-lashed lids dropping over the sleepy eyes:  “go along!”

So Tom went down town, Gertrude went to sleep, and Susan was left to her thoughts.  What had these thoughts been about all these weeks that the question had never arisen as to the connection between Mr. Falconer and the woman who occupied her house, “Who is she?” Now, indeed, Susan asked the question with a burning at her heart.  If she was simply a friend or a sister, why this reticence and mystery of which Tom had spoken?  If she was his wife, why any reticence or mystery?  Besides, Mr. Falconer had said he was a bachelor.