“You mentioned a Mr. Chisholm,” Hilary said. “Did I ever meet your Mr. Chisholm, or was he one of your Paris friends?”
They had stopped at this point to light a new torch from the stump of an old one. He saw her face blush a little in the light, and her eyes sparkled.
“By George, Pearl,” he said, “you are a lovely woman.”
“About Mr. Chisholm,” she said. “I met him at Passion Courtenay when I was a girl: long before I went to Paris. I have never seen him since. I don’t expect that you ever met him. He came with some people called Penger or Penga.”
“No. I never met him. And this Mr. Harker was like him?”
“Yes.”
“He was a pretty rough customer, if you ask me, that same Mr. Harker.”
“I would be very glad of his help, Hilary, if we were to be mixed up with the friends of that Paris man.”
“Put him out of your mind, my dear.”
“I wish I could, Hilary.”