“Horrible!” said Minna.
“Dreadful!” capped Mrs. Folyat. “But your father would come. He said his place was among the poor.”
Gertrude and Mary exchanged glances, but said nothing. Serge noticed it and tried another topic.
“How’s all the children? How many are there?”
“Oh! My dear.” Mrs. Folyat felt for her handkerchief.
Minna answered for her.
“Annette’s away. She’s a governess with some rich vulgar people. James is dead. He fell from the roof. Frederic is out. He always is. We’re in. We always are. And that’s the lot.”
“What about Leedham?”
“I forgot Leedham. He’s in Rio, in a bank. Are you rich, Serge?”
Serge felt in his trousers pocket and produced four sovereigns, three shillings and ten coppers. He laid them out neatly on the red baize table-cloth.