It occasionally happens that a woman's already got a husband."

   "She said she was an old maid."

   "Do you dare to insinuate that I look like an old maid?" she cried.

   "Yes."

   "Upon my word!"

   "Would you wish me to insinuate that you look like anything so insipid as a young girl?

    Were

   you the woman of the black domino?" he persisted.

   "I should need further information, before being able to make up my mind. Are the—what's their name?—Wohenheimer?—are the Wohenheimers people one can safely confess to knowing? Oh, you're a man, and don't count. But a woman? It sounds a trifle Jewish, Wohenheimer. But of course there are Jews and Jews."

   "You're playing with me like the cat in the adage," he

   sighed. "It's too cruel. No one is responsible for his memory."

   "And to think that this man took me down to dinner not two months ago!" she murmured in her veil.

   "You're as hard as nails. In whose house? Or—stay. Prompt me a little. Tell me the first syllable of your name. Then the rest will come with a rush."

   "My name is Matilda Muggins."

   "I've a great mind to punish your untruthfulness by pretending to believe you," said he. "Have you really got a husband?"

   "Why do you doubt it?" said she.

   "I don't doubt it. Have you?"

   "I don't know what to answer."

   "Don't you know whether you've got a husband?" he protested.

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