[CHAPTER III]
He went early in the afternoon, and he found her more cordial than on Marine Parade, though he gathered that she had been unprepared to see him so soon. He was shown into a small back parlour reserved for the family's own use, and when he entered she was in a rocking-chair with her baby on her lap. At his playful advances it began to cry, and it wailed continuously while he paid it the usual compliments, and heard that it was fifteen months old, and christened "Vivian."
"The only one?" he asked, as the noise subsided.
"Yes," she said, "I lost my little girl. How nice of you to remember your promise! I made sure you'd forget."
"That was very wicked of you. You ought to have known better; didn't I show you what sort of a memory I've got?"
"Well, really you did! I can't think how you knew me again."
"Why, you haven't changed much," he said, "you were just as good-looking then."
"Don't be so foolish." She bent over the baby.
"I knew you directly I caught sight of you. You were just coming out of the house."
"What, this house? Were you passing?"