"No—I don't really sing. I haven't got a piano at my place—now."
"What a pity! I suppose you know a great deal about music?"
"I wish I did!" said Richard, trying awkwardly not to seem flattered.
A third pause.
"Mr. Aked seems to have a fine lot of French novels. I wish I had as many."
"Yes. He's always bringing them in."
"And this is the latest, eh?" He picked up "L'Abbé Tigrane," which lay on the table by the sewing.
"Yes, I fancy uncle got that last night."
"You read French, of course?"
"I! No, indeed!" Again she laughed. "You mustn't imagine, Mr. Larch," she went on, and her small eyes twinkled, "that I am at all like uncle. I'm not. I've only kept house for him a little while, and we are really—quite different."