“The return of Lady Dominey to health. I was one of the few, you may remember, privileged to make her acquaintance at the time of your marriage.”
“I paid a visit this morning,” Dominey said, “to the doctor who has been in attendance upon her since her marriage. He agrees with me that there is no reason why Lady Dominey should not, in course of time, be restored to perfect health.”
“I take the liberty of finishing my glass to that hope, Sir Everard,” the lawyer murmured.
Both glasses were set down empty, only the stem of Dominey's was snapped in two. Mr. Mangan expressed his polite regrets.
“This old glass,” he murmured, looking at his own admiringly, “becomes very fragile.”
Dominey did not answer. His brain had served him a strange trick. In the shadows of the room he had fancied that he could see Stephanie Eiderstrom holding out her arms, calling to him to fulfill the pledges of long ago, and behind her—
“Have you ever been in love, Mangan?” Dominey asked his companion.
“I, sir? Well, I'm not sure,” the man of the world replied, a little startled by the abruptness of the question. “It's an old-fashioned way of looking at things now, isn't it?”
Dominey relapsed into thoughtfulness.
“I suppose so,” he admitted.