“William.”
“Of course—how stupid of me to forget! Did you ever receive a letter I wrote you, Mauney, just after your mother died?”
“No, I don’t remember getting one,” he replied, with an expression of curiosity.
“That’s strange. Apparently it went astray. But I always wondered—but then I wrote you again, Mauney, about three years ago. Didn’t you get that?”
He shook his head.
“Funny!” she said, looking toward her husband.
“There’s nothing funny about trans-Atlantic mails, my dear,” said Mr. Neville Day, lighting his cigar. “It’s got well past the funny stage with me.”
“And then I sent you a postcard once, I remember. Didn’t you even get that, Mauney?”
“I don’t remember it.”