"Well, she's got to earn her living, however jolly she is. She's not one of your fine ladies, you know."
Sabre recognised the implication but ignored it. "What's old Bright going to do with her?"
"He doesn't quite know. He was talking to my missus about it the other day. He's as good as we are, you know. He's an idea of getting her out as a sort of lady's companion somewhere."
This was what Sabre had remembered; and he went straight from young Perch to Twyning and recalled the conversation.
Twyning said, "Hullo, still interested in the fair Effie?"
"It's for young Perch over at Penny Green I'm asking. For his mother. He's a young man"—Sabre permitted his eyes to rest for a moment on Harold, seated at his desk—"and he feels he ought to join the army. He wants the girl to be with his mother while he's away."
Twyning, noting the glance, changed his tone to one of much friendliness. "Oh, I see, old man. No, Effie's got nothing yet. She was over to our place to tea last Sunday."
"Good. I'll go and talk to old Bright. I'm keen about this."
"Yes, you seem to be, old man."