“My mother is very well, I thank you, Sir.”
“You are yourself in good health, I venture to hope, Madam?”
“I am, Sir, I thank you.”
The task which Mr Welles had set himself, as he perceived with chagrin, was proving harder than he had anticipated. Phoebe evidently intended to waste no more time on him than she could help.
“The state of affairs at White-Ladies is of infinite concern to me, Madam.”
“Is it, Sir?”
“Undoubtedly, Madam. Your health and happiness—all of you—are extreme dear to me.”
“Really, Sir!”
“Especially yours, Madam.”
Phoebe made no answer to this. Her silence encouraged Mr Welles to proceed. He thought his tactics had succeeded, and the creature was coming round by degrees. The only point now requiring care was not to startle her away again.