Later they found their way into a quiet alcove that overlooked the big reception rooms, and Gwen at once plunged into the subject.
“Is it anything to do with the little Irish girl?” she asked.
“Partly.”
“Well, what’s happened.”
“Her father is dead.”
“Dead!” echoed Gwen, in a shocked voice.
“Yes. He died after a few days’ illness, about six weeks ago, of some heart attack.”
“Goodness! How sudden it seems. When did you hear?”
“The night I told you about them.”
“Fancy! And I’ve never given you a chance to speak of it.”