“Pretty well,” said Theo, drily. And, changing the subject, “I don’t believe the old man knows that you exist.”
“Yes, he does.”
“I doubt it. Have you ever spoken to him?”
“Yes, formerly. Years ago.”
“Well?”
“No use. He says I’m not his son.”
“It must be difficult to prove.”
“Legally, yes. But it’s a fact and everybody knows it. It’s known all over Ngadjiwa.”
“Have you no sort of evidence?”
“Only the oath which my mother took when she was dying, before witnesses.”