“I had no idea that my father had known your mother long ago,” said Brook suddenly. “Had you?”
“Yes—of late,” answered Clare. “You see my mother wasn’t sure, until you told me his first name,” she hastened to add.
“Oh—I see. Of course. Stupid of me not to try and bring it into the conversation sooner, wasn’t it? But it seems to have been ever so long ago. Don’t you think so?”
“Yes. Ever so long ago.”
“When they were quite young, I suppose. Your mother must have been perfectly beautiful when she was young. I dare say my father was madly in love with her. It wouldn’t be at all surprising, you know, would it? He was a tremendous fellow for falling in love.”
“Oh! Was he?” Clare spoke rather coldly.
“You’re not angry, are you, because I suggested it?” asked Brook quickly. “I don’t see that there’s any harm in it. There’s no reason why a young man as he was shouldn’t have been desperately in love with a beautiful young girl, is there?”
“None whatever,” answered Clare. “I was only thinking—it’s rather an odd coincidence—do you mind telling me something?”
“Of course not! What is it?”