“How strange!” observed Mr. Cecil Barth.
“Strange that she should want you? Oh, not at all,” Brock demurred politely.
“Oh, no. Strange that she shouldn’t have mentioned it before.”
“Didn’t she say anything about it, last night?” Brock inquired.
“No. At least, I don’t remember it.”
“It may have slipped her mind. You had a good deal to talk over, I believe.”
“What do people do, when they go to market?” Barth queried, with sudden and intentional inconsequence.
“Buy things.”
“Yes. But what sort of things?”
“Haven’t you been down into the market yet?” Brock asked, as he craned his neck to watch two girls passing in the street beneath.