The woman beard as if she was trying to understand a foreign language. This was, in fact, a language without meaning to her. As yet she caught nothing.
"You," said Christine, turning to the next, "were Dorothy Oliphant; you were also young, beautiful, and an heiress; you, like Lady Mildred, had all the men at your feet. I don't know what that means, but the books say so. Then the Discovery came, and love-making, whatever that was, seems to have gone out of fashion."
The second woman heard this information with lacklustre eyes. What did it matter?
"You"—Christine turned to a third and to a fourth and fifth—"you were Rosie Lorrayne; you, Adela Dupré; you, Susie Campbell. You were all in Society; you were all young and beautiful and happy. Now for the men." She turned to them. The sailor named Jack gazed upon her with eyes of admiration. The other men, startled at first by the apparition of the tresses, had relapsed into listlessness. They hardly looked up as she addressed them.
First she pointed to the sailor.
"Your name—"
"I remember my name," he said. "I have not forgotten so much as our friends. Sailors talk more with each other, and remember. I am named John Carera, and I was formerly first-cousin to Lady Mildred. Cousin"—he held out his hand—"have you forgotten your cousin? We used to play together in the old times. You promised to marry me when you should grow up."
Lady Mildred gave him her hand.
"It is so long ago—so long ago," she murmured; but her eyes were troubled. She had begun to remember the things put away and forgotten for so long.
"You"—Christine turned to another—" were Geoffrey
