Irene went on quietly:
“He and his daughter were in the Gallery, and afterward at the confectioner's where we had tea.”
Jolyon went over and put his hand on her shoulder.
“How did he look?”
“Grey; but otherwise much the same.”
“And the daughter?”
“Pretty. At least, Jon thought so.”
Jolyon's heart side-slipped again. His wife's face had a strained and puzzled look.
“You didn't-?” he began.
“No; but Jon knows their name. The girl dropped her handkerchief and he picked it up.”