“After this, I shall apply myself to ‘Comus’ with added comprehension,” she said. “But—you take my breath away; have you, then, delved so deep in the mine of English history that you can people ’most every ruined pile in Britain with the men and women of the dead years?”
He laughed, and colored a little, with true British confusion at having been caught in an extravagant mood.
“There you lay bare the mummer,” he said. “What clever fellows actors would be if they grasped the underlying realities of all the fine words they mouth! No; I quote ‘Comus’ only because on one half-forgotten occasion I played in it.”
“Where?”
The prompt question took him unaware.
“At Fairholme,” he said.
“Is that another castle?”
“No—merely a Georgian residence.”
“I seem to have heard of it—somewhere—I can’t remember.”
He remembered quite well—was not Mrs. Devar, student of Burke, sitting in the car at the castle gate?