"No."
"Can I be of use to thee in anything?"
He was silent a little longer, and said:
"No," a second time.
The profile which had been turned to her was looking now through the window-pane to a ruddy cloud, which was moving on in darkness above the roof opposite, that cloud reminded him of something. She looked at him, and, after a moment, added:
"Our daughter will write to thee, Aloysius."
He interrupted her, hurriedly:
"Thy daughter!"
She began in astonishment:
"Irene—"