"Sir, will you forgive me? Are you related to the Verneys?"
"No, I haven't that honour," said he, smiling. "I know Cleve Verney very well, and a very good fellow he is; but we're not connected; my name is Sedley—Thomas Sedley."
"Sedley!" she repeated once or twice, still looking at him, "I recollect the name. No—no connection, I dare say, Cleve; and how is Cleve?"
"Very well; he's at Ware, now, for a few days."
"Ah! I dare say, and very well; a pretty boy—very pretty; but not like—no, not the least."
"I've heard people say he's very like what his father was," said Tom.
"Oh! yes, I think so; there is a likeness," acquiesced she.
"His father's been dead a long time, you know?"
"I know; yes. Cleve is at Oxford or Cambridge by this time?" she continued.
Tom Sedley shook his head and smiled a little.