“Well, she had to go.”
“Does she live in London?” Edwin asked, with an air of indifference.
“She does just now.”
“I only ask because I thought from something she said she came from Turnhill way.”
“Her people do,” said Janet. “Yes, you may say she’s a Turnhill girl.”
“She seems very fond of poetry,” said Edwin.
“You’ve noticed it!” Janet’s face illuminated the dark. “You should hear her recite!”
“Recites, does she?”
“You’d have heard her that night you were here. But when she knew you were coming, she made us all promise not to ask her.”
“Really!” said Edwin. “But why? She didn’t know me. She’d never seen me.”