“I see. Can you tell me any of the places he has worked?”

“Well …” Mary hesitated. She didn’t want to lie. “A mason’s work takes him to different places. But I know,” she added hopefully, “that for a long time he worked on the Croton Aqueduct.”

“He did? The Croton Aqueduct?” For some reason, Mrs. Master looked delighted. “Did he work on the bridges and the reservoirs as well?”

“I think so, ma’am. I think he worked on all of it.”

“I know every inch of that aqueduct,” Mrs. Master said proudly.

What this meant Mary couldn’t imagine, but she bowed her head respectfully.

“Perhaps you saw him there, Mrs. Master,” ventured Gretchen.

“Well,” said Mrs. Master, more pleased than ever, “perhaps I did.” She seemed to catch herself for a moment. “Is your father connected in any way to Tammany Hall?”

“My father? Oh no. Not at all.”

“Good. So tell me, Mary,” she continued, “what experience have you of household duties?”

“Since my mother died, ma’am, I have kept house for my father,” Mary answered. “I’ve had to do everything.” She saw Gretchen nodding vigorously. It’s lucky the lady can’t see the place, she thought.

“You’re not afraid of work, then?”

“Oh no,” said Mary, “not at all.” At least she didn’t have to think about that.

“But”—Mrs. Master suddenly looked thoughtful—“if your father relies upon you to keep house for him now, Mary, would you not be deserting him, rather, if you came to live here?”

Mary stared at her. Then she and Gretchen looked at each other. They hadn’t thought of that. The question was so logical, yet the truthful answer would demolish the entire edifice of respectability that Gretchen had just built up. Mary felt herself going pale. Whatever could she say? She couldn’t think of anything.

But already Gretchen had turned to Mrs. Master. She was speaking quite calmly.

“I can’t tell you this for certain, Mrs. Master,” her friend was saying, “but”—she seemed to hesitate for just a second before continuing—“if perhaps there was a widow who was thinking of marrying Mr. O’Donnell, a lady used to running a house of her own …”

Mary’s mouth opened. What in heaven’s name was Gretchen talking about? A respectable lady marry John O’Donnell? Had she gone out of her mind?

But Gretchen was blithely ignoring her. She was talking to Mrs. Master as if she were imparting a secret that Mary mightn’t want to discuss.

“If that was the case, and the lady had strong opinions of her own about how to run a house …”