"Fair," replied Ethel, without even looking at him. "Where is your mother?" suggesting that much depended on the answer.
"Lying down," answered Ethel, truthfully and without any feeling.
"And Alaric?"
"In the garden."
"Then we have a moment or two—alone?" Brent put a world of meaning into the suggestion.
"Very likely," said Ethel, picking up a score of Boheme and looking at it as if she saw it for the first time: all the while watching him through her half-closed eyes.
Brent went to her. "Glad to see me?" he asked.
"Why not?"
"I am glad to see you." He bent over her. "More than glad."
"Really?"