It appeared that Petrovitch did remember the lady in question.
The other men had formed a knot at the other side of the fire.
'You know,' said Mrs Quaid, lowering her voice discreetly, as she glanced at them, 'my daughter Cora thinks that there will be a match there before long. I do so hope that dear interesting Count has not lost all his property. From what I hear he is very well off.'
'Gentlemen of your opinions ought not to marry,' said Mr Quaid, striking in, much to his wife's surprise. He did not usually advance independent opinions, being emphatically 'Mrs Quaid's husband,' and nothing more.
'Why?' asked Petrovitch, amused.
'Because your lives are so constantly in danger.'
'There's not much danger in Derbyshire,' broke in Hirsch, in spite of Petrovitch's restraining eye.
'Ah, well,' said Mrs Quaid, 'I do hope, if anything does come of it, that he will settle down quietly in England. There is so much that wants doing here. We want good, brave workers to strive to bridge over the terrible gulf between the classes.'
Toomey, suddenly recalled to a sense of the 'gulf'—which he had quite lost sight of under the influence of Petrovitch's tact—felt a painfully renewed consciousness of his boots, his hands, and his Sunday clothes.