exactly.
"I suppose that is the woman you are referring to?" he said suddenly.

"It is. You have not had more than one, have you?"

He laughed, pleased to give the subject a lighter tone.

"Well, this poor creature I used to know in the South when I was a
boy--when I first went down there, you know? She was the daughter of an
old farmer at whose house we stayed. I used to talk to her. You know how
a boy talks to a pretty girl whom he is thrown with in a lonesome old
country place, far from any amusement." Her eyes showed that she knew,
and he was satisfied and proceeded.

"But heavens! the idea of being in love with her! Why, she was the
daughter of a farmer. Well, then I fell in with her afterwards--once or
twice, to be accurate--when I went down there on business, and she was a
pretty, vain country girl--"

"I used to know her," assented Mrs. Lancaster.

"You did!" His face fell.

"Yes; when I went there to a little Winter resort for my throat--when I
was seventeen. She used to go to the school taught by Mr. Keith."

"She did? Oh, then you know her name? It was Tripper, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"I thought it was. Well, she was quite pretty, you remember; and, as I
say, I fell in with her again, and having been old friends--" He shifted
in his seat a little as if embarrassed--"Why--oh, you know how it is. I
began to talk nonsense to her to pass away the time,--told her she was
pretty and all that,--and made her a few presents--and--" He paused and
took a long breath. "I thought she was very queer. The first thing I
knew, I found she was--out of her mind. Well, I stopped and soon came
away, and, to my horror, she took it into her head that she was my wife.
She followed me here. I had to go abroad, and I heard no more of her
until, not long ago, I heard she had gone completely crazy and was
hunting me up as her husband. You know how such poor creatures are?" He
paused, well satisfied with his recital, for first surprise and then a
certain sympathy took the place of incredulity in Mrs. Lancaster's face.

"She is absolutely mad, poor thing, I understand," he sighed, with
unmistakable sympathy in his voice.

"Yes," Mrs. Lancaster assented, her thoughts drifting away.

He watched her keenly, and next moment began again.

"I heard she had got hold of Mr. Rimmon's name and declares that he
married us."

Mrs. Lancaster returned to the present, and he went on:

"I don't know how she got hold of it. I suppose