"He behaved to her very handsomely. At this moment she is living in a pleasant little villa out Leatherhead way. You see her driving herself in a little donkey-carriage, and throwing bits of meat to pussy-cats at the cottage doors. Touch of nature that, isn't it? By the by, you were speaking of a family named Gildersleeve."
He added this, absently looking about the little room, which just now they had to themselves.
"Know anything about them?" asked Gammon, eyeing him curiously.
"I was just going to say—ah, yes, to be sure, the Gildersleeves. Now I wonder, Gammon—forgive me, I can't help wondering—why this family interests you."
"Oh, nothing. I came across the name."
"Evidently." Greenacre's tone became a little more positive. "I'm sure you have no objection to telling me how and where you came across it."
Gammon had an uncomfortable sense of something unfamiliar in his friend. Greenacre had never spoken in this way to him; it sounded rather too imperative, too much the tone of a superior.
"I don't think I can tell you that," he said awkwardly.
"No? Really? I'm sorry. In that case I can't tell you anything that I have learnt. Yet I fancy it might be worth your while to exchange."
"Exchange?"