“There isn’t much of me, Claude. It oughtn’t to take you long.”
“But it does,” said Claude playfully. “I never know when you are serious and when you are teasing. I have not the most remote idea of what you mean now.”
“Then I’ll tell you. He’s in love.”
“Who is?”
“Mr Trevithick.”
“Mary!”
“There you go. No: not with you. Of course, it would be quite natural if the great big fellow, coming here every now and then, had fallen in love with his client’s beautiful daughter. But the foolish goose has fallen in love with some one else.”
“Mary, dear, how do you know? With whom?”
“Ah! Of course, you would never guess—with poor Mary Dillon.”
“Oh, Mary, darling! But has he really told you so?”