He went up to her and recalled himself. She apparently had some difficulty in remembering him, for at first she gave not the slightest evidence of recognition; but after the other lady had moved away she was more fortunate in placing him.
“You have known the Wentworths for some time?”
Keith did not know whether this was a statement or an inquiry. She had a way of giving a tone of interrogation to her statements. He explained that he and Norman Wentworth had been friends as boys.
“A dear fellow, Norman?” smiled Mrs. Nailor. “Quite one of our rising young men? He wanted, you know, to give up the most brilliant prospects to help his father, who had been failing for some time. Not failing financially?” she explained with the interrogation-point again.
“Of course, I don’t believe those rumors; I mean in health?”
Keith had so understood her.
“Yes, he has quite gone. Completely shattered?” She sighed deeply. “But Norman is said to be wonderfully clever, and has gone in with his father into the bank?” she pursued. “The girl over there is to marry him—if her mother can arrange it? That tall, stuck-up woman.” She indicated Mrs. Caldwell, who was sitting near Mrs. Wentworth. “Do you think her handsome?”
Keith said he did. He thought she referred to the girl, who looked wonderfully handsome in a tailor-made gown under a big white hat.
“Romance is almost dying out?” she sighed. “It is so beautiful to find it? Yes?”
Keith agreed with her about its charm, but hoped it was not dying out. He thought of one romance he knew.
“You used to be very romantic? Yes?”
Keith could not help blushing.
“Have you seen the Yorkes lately?” she continued. Keith had explained that he had just arrived. “You know Alice is a great belle? And so pretty, only she knows it too well; but what pretty girl does not? The town is divided now as to whether she is going to marry Ferdy Wickersham or Mr. Lancaster of Lancaster & Company. He is one of our leading men, considerably older than herself, but immensely wealthy and of a distinguished family. Ferdy Wickersham was really in love with”—she lowered her voice—“that girl over there by Mrs. Wentworth; but she preferred Norman Wentworth; at least, her mother did, so Ferdy has gone back to Alice? You say you have not been to see her? No? You are going, of course? Mrs. Yorke was so fond of you?”
“Which is she going to—I mean, which do people say she prefers?” inquired Keith, his voice, in spite of himself, betraying his interest.
“Oh, Ferdy, of course. He is one of the eligibles, so good-looking, and immensely rich, too; They say he is really a great financier. Has his father’s turn? You know he came from a shop?”
Keith admitted his undeniable good looks and knew of his wealth; but he was so confounded by the information he had received that he was in quite a state of confusion.