'But now,' he said, releasing himself from the prolonged osculation, 'about this Captain Sarrasin?'
'Yes, dear, about him. Only what about him?'
'Well, that's exactly what I want to know. I don't quite see what he's up to. What does he have a room in this hotel for?'
'I suppose because he thinks it is a very nice hotel—and so it is, dear, thanks to you.'
'Yes, that's all right enough,' Paulo said, a little dissatisfied; the personal compliment did not charm away his discomfort in this instance, as the embrace had done in the other.
'I don't see where your trouble comes in, dear.'
'Well, you see, I have ascertained that this Captain Sarrasin is a married man, and that he has a house where he and his wife live down Clapham way,' and Paulo made a jerk with his hand as if to designate to his daughter the precise geographical situation of Captain Sarrasin's abode. 'But he sleeps here many nights, and he is here most of the day, and he gets his letters here, and all sorts of people come to see him here.'
'I suppose, dear, he has business to do, and it wouldn't be quite convenient for people to go out and see him in Clapham.'
'Why, my little girl, if it comes to that, it would be almost as convenient for people—City people for instance—to go to Clapham as to come here.'
'Dear, that depends on what part of Clapham he lives in. You see we are just next to a station here, and in parts of Clapham they are two miles off anything of the kind. Besides, all people don't come from the City, do they?'