'Lyddy 'll be back very soon,' was the reply. 'I think I'd better go now.'
She shook hands with both of them, and they heard her run up the thin-carpeted stairs.
Mother and son sat in silence for some minutes. Gilbert had taken another book, and seemed to be absorbed in it; Mrs. Grail had a face of meditation. Occasionally she looked upwards, as though on the track of some memory which she strove to make clear.
'Gilbert,' she began at length, suggestively.
He raised his eyes and regarded her in an absent way.
'I've been trying for a long time to remember what that child's face reminded me of. Every time I see her, I make sure I've seen someone like her before, and now I think I've got it.'
Gilbert was used to a stream of amusing fancifulness in his mother; analysis and resemblances were dear to her; possibly the Biblical theories which she had imbibed were in some degree answerable for the characteristic.
'And who does she remind you of?' he asked.
'Of somebody whose name I can't think of. You remember the school in Lambeth Road where Lizzie used to go?'
She referred to a time five-and-twenty years gone by, when Gilbert's sister was a child. He nodded.