"I dare say. They've probably seen you, too. The elder is Mrs. Bayford, sister of Mr. Grimston, my uncle's partner in Paris. The girl is Marion Grimston, his daughter."
"I remember perfectly now. They used to come to our charity sales, and—and—anything of that kind."
Pruyn laughed.
"Anything, you mean, that was open to all comers. Mrs. Grimston would be flattered."
"I didn't mean to speak slightingly," she hastened to say. "There were plenty of nice people in Paris whom I didn't know."
"And plenty, I imagine, who thought you ought to have known them. Mrs. Grimston, and Mrs. Bayford, too, would have been among that number."
"Well, you see I do know them—by sight. I recall Miss Grimston especially. She's so handsome."
"I shall tell her that to-night."
"To-night?"
"Yes; it's with them that Dorothea and I are dining. The name conveying nothing to you, you probably didn't remember it. The fact is that, as Mrs. Bayford is the sister of my uncle's partner—my partner, too—I make it a point to be very civil to her twice a year—once when I dine with her, and once when she dines with me. The annual festivals have been delayed this season because she has only just returned from a long visit to Japan and India, with Marion in her wake."