“How old is she?” demanded Pen suddenly.
“I don’t know,” he answered vaguely, as if her age had never occurred to him before. “She has been married ten years.”
“Oh! Did she marry the right man?”
“She certainly did. Kingdon is a prince.”
“Any children?”
“Three; two little fellows as fine as are made, and a girl.”
“I adore children.”
“I am glad to hear you say that. Every good woman loves children.”
“And you really think there’s the makings of a good woman in me?”
“Yes; I think so,” he answered earnestly, “and if there’s but a spark of goodness in you, she will find it and fan it to a glow.”