Mr. Dod was depressed, so much so that he came to the point at once.  “I hope you had a good time in Genoa,” he said.  “We should have been there now, only I knew we should never catch up to you if we didn’t skip something.  So I heard of a case of cholera there, and didn’t mention that it was last year.  Quite enough for Her Ex.  I say, though—­it’s no use.”

“Isn’t it?” said I.  “Are you sure?”

“Pretty confoundedly certain.  The British lion’s getting there, in great shape—­the brute.  All the widow’s arranging.  With the widow it’s ’Mr. Dod, you will take care of me, won’t you?’ or ’Come now, Mr. Dod, and tell me all about buffalo shooting on your native prairies’—­and Mr. Dod is a rattled jay.  There’s something about the mandate of a middle-aged British female.”

“I should think there was!” I said.

“Then Maffy, you see, walks in.  They don’t seem to have much conversation—­she regularly brightens up when I come along and say something cheerful—­but he’s gradually making up his mind that the best isn’t any too good for him.”

“Perhaps we don’t begin so well in America,” I interrupted thoughtfully.  “But then, we don’t develop into Mrs. P.’s either.”

Dicky seemed unable to follow my line of thought.  “I must say,” he went on resentfully, “I like—­well, just a smell of constancy about a man.  A fellow that’s thrown over ought to be in about the same shape as a widower.  But not much Maffy.  I tried to work up his feelings over the American girl the other night—­he was as calm!”

“Dicky,” said I, “there are subjects a man must keep sacred.  You must not speak to Mr. Mafferton of his first—­attachment again.  They never do it in England, except for purposes of fiction.”

“Well, I worked that racket all I knew.  I even told him that American girls as often as not changed their minds.”

“Richard! He will think I—­what will he think of American girls!  It was excessively wrong of you to say that—­I might almost call it criminal!”

Dicky looked at me in pained surprise.  “Look here, Mamie,” he said, “a fellow in my fix, you know!  Don’t get excited.  How am I going to confide in you unless you keep your hair on!”

“What, may I ask, did Mr. Mafferton say when you told him that?” I asked sternly.

“He said—­now you’ll be madder than ever.  I won’t tell you.”

“Mr. Dod—­Dicky, haven’t we been friends from infancy!”

“Played with the same rattle.  Cut our teeth together.”

“Well then——­”

“Well then,” he said, “do you mind putting your parasol straight?  I like to see the person I’m talking to, and besides the sun is on the other side.  He said he didn’t think it was a privilege that should be extended to all cases.”

“He did, did he?” I rejoined calmly.  “That’s like the British—­isn’t it?”

“It would have made such a complication if I’d kicked him,” confessed Mr. Dod.