"Yes," for the third time.
"I want very much to know more about them. I can't tell you altogether why; only it is partly that I think my father and he must once have known one another. I believe they were in the same regiment; but they have not met now for years. There was a disagreement of some kind." Dorothea hesitated, for this was rather at variance with her resolution not to divulge her father's secret. She had spoken impulsively. "Perhaps my father might not like me to say so much."
"It would be a good thing that they should come together again."
"I wish they could; but I am not sure that my father would be willing. He hardly over speaks about Colonel Erskine." She was greatly tempted to mention the Christmas card, but refrained. "Some day, perhaps, it will come about. I am not even perfectly sure that they are the same Erskines; but there isn't much doubt. My father's friend had a little girl about my age, named Dorothea. And there is a Dorothea Erskine at Craye, is there not? The one called 'Dolly.'"
"Yes."
"Do tell me what she is like. It seems as if we ought to know something about each other."
Edred was silent.
"Is she in the least like me?"
"No."
"Please describe her. I want to be able to picture her face."