"You are noticing my flower, Mrs. Jersey," he said. "It is rather rare."
"Most extraordinary," replied Mrs. Jersey, coolly. "I have seen holly with red berries before, but this yellow----"
"There was a great bush of it in my father's garden," said Mr. Harmer, "but I have not seen any for years."
"Perhaps you would like it, Mrs. Jersey," said Brendan, taking it from his coat.
She hastily waved her hand. "No! no! I am too old for flowers. Keep it, Mr. Brendan. It suits better with your youth," she looked at his face keenly. "I have seen a face like yours before."
Brendan laughed. "I am of a commonplace type, I fear," he said.
"No; not so very common. Fair hair and dark eyes do not usually go together. Perhaps I have met your father?"
"Perhaps," replied George, phlegmatically.
"Or your mother," persisted Mrs. Jersey.
"I dare say!" Then he turned the conversation. "What a delightful old house you have here!"