"Nice girl?" Spencer asked.
"Yes—very!"
"What sort of a fellow's the father?"
"Very quiet. I've scarcely spoken to him. They're Americans. Friends of Lord Runton's brother, out in New York. Ever heard of them?"
"Yes. A few times."
"You seem interested."
"I am—very."
Duncombe turned suddenly white.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Spencer held his cigarette between his fingers and looked at it thoughtfully.