"A nice gentlemanly fellow."
"Mother, I sometimes think he is other than what he seems, we know nothing whatever about him."
"He is a friend of Jane Mullins's," said mother.
"But, mother, how can that be? He is not really a friend of Jane Mullins's. Honest little Jane belongs essentially to the people. You have only to look from one face to the other to see what a wide gulf there is between them. He is accustomed to good society; he is a man of the world. Mother, I am certain he is keeping something to himself. I cannot understand why he lives here. Why should he live here?"
"He likes it," answered mother. "He enjoys his many conversations with me. He likes the neighbourhood. He says Bloomsbury is far more healthy than Mayfair."
"Mother, dear, is it likely that such a man would think much about his health."
"I am sorry you are prejudiced against him," said mother, and a fretful quaver came into her voice. "Well," she added, "I am glad the day is fine, we shall enjoy our little expedition this evening."
"But are you sure it won't be too much for you?"
"Too much! I am so wanting to go," said mother.
"Then that is right, and I am delighted."