[Illustration: "But my friends still call me Mrs. Jerry," she said
softly.]
"But my friends still call me Mrs. Jerry," she said softly. "I suppose
it suits me somehow."
"You will always be Mrs. Jerry to me," he replied huskily. Ah, those
meetings with old loves!
"If you minded so much," Mrs. Jerry said, a little tremulously (she
had the softest heart, though her memory was a trifle defective), "you
might have discovered whether I had married him or not."
"Was there no reason why I should not seek to discover it?" Tommy
asked with tremendous irony, but not knowing in the least what he
meant.
It confused Mrs. Jerry. They always confused her when they were
fierce, and yet she liked them to be fierce when she re-met them, so
few of them were.
But she said the proper thing. "I am glad you have got over it."
Tommy maintained a masterly silence. No wonder he was a power with
women.
"I say I am glad you have got over it," murmured Mrs. Jerry again. Has
it ever been noticed that the proper remark does not always gain in
propriety with repetition?
It is splendid to know that right feeling still kept Tommy silent.
Yet she went on briskly as if he had told her something: "Am I
detaining you? You were walking so quickly that I thought you were in
pursuit of someone.
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