Mr. May looked even more distant, drawing himself up in an odd fashion, so that he looked as if he were trussed. But Madame’s shrewd black eyes and busy mind did not let him off.
“Buy Miss Houghton out—” said Madame shrewdly.
“Of cauce,” said Mr. May. “Miss Houghton herself must decide.”
“Oh sure—! You—are you married?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife here?”
“My wife is in London.”
“And children—?”
“A daughter.”
Madame slowly nodded her head up and down, as if she put thousands of two-and-two’s together.