"Yes," she said, "London's lonely!" And sighed.
"My eldest was bitten by a dog the other day," he went on, in the vein of gossip.
"Oh, don't!" she protested.
"Yes. Gave us a lot of anxiety. All right now! You might like to know that cyanide gauze is a good thing to put on a wound—supposing anything should happen to yours—"
"Oh, don't!" she protested. "I do hope and pray Robert will never be bitten by a dog. Was it a big dog?"
"Fair," said Edward Henry. "So his name's Robert! So's my eldest's!"
"Really now! They wanted him to be called Robert Philip Stephen Darrand Patrick. But I wouldn't have it. He's just Robert. I did have my own way there! You know he was born six months after his father's death."
"And I suppose he's ten months now?"
"No. Only six."
"Great Scott! He's big!" said Edward Henry.