“Tom? I thought he had forgotten my existence. Who told him about me I can’t imagine. So you didn’t come straight home from Japan?”
Barfoot was nursing his knee, his head thrown back.
“No; I loitered a little in Egypt and Turkey. Are you living quite alone?”
He drawled slightly on the last word, its second vowel making quite a musical note, of wonderful expressiveness. The clear decision of his cousin’s reply was a sharp contrast.
“A lady lives with me—Miss Nunn. She will join us in a moment.”
“Miss Nunn?” He smiled. “A partner in your activity?”
“She gives me valuable help.”
“I must hear all about it—if you will kindly tell me some day. It will interest me greatly. You always were the most interesting of our family. Brother Tom promised to be a genius, but marriage has blighted the hope, I fear.”
“The marriage was a very absurd one.”
“Was it? I feared so; but Tom seems satisfied. I suppose they will stay at Madeira.”