It is his chief interest.

One likes people to tell the truth.' * * * * * * * * * * Barfoot was away until the end of April, but after that note from Parma he did not write.

One bright afternoon in May, a Saturday, he presented himself at his cousin's house, and found two or three callers in the drawing-room, ladies as usual; one of them was Miss Winifred Haven, another was Mrs.Widdowson.Mary received him without effusiveness, and after a few minutes' talk with her he took a place by Mrs.Widdowson, who, it struck him, looked by no means in such good spirits as during the early days of her marriage.

As soon as she began to converse, his impression of a change in her was confirmed; the girlishness so pleasantly noticeable when first he knew her had disappeared, and the gravity substituted for it was suggestive of disillusion, of trouble.
She asked him if he knew some people named Bevis, who occupied a flat just above his own.
'Bevis?
I have seen the name on the index at the foot of the stairs; but I don't know them personally.' 'That was how I came to know that _you_ live there,' said Monica.

'My husband took me to call upon the Bevises, and there we saw your name.
At least, we supposed it was you, and Miss Barfoot tells me we were right.' 'Oh yes; I live there all alone, a gloomy bachelor.