"Yes, sir." He paused.
During many an Atlantic crossing he and Mr. Traill had talked of that last joyous journey, when he, a boy who had just joined the service, sat at their table, as was the custom of junior officers in those years.
Mr. Traill smiled. He knew what was in the other man's mind.
"Do you see a likeness in this young lady to anyone you have ever known?" he asked.
"Well, sir, I hope it will not hurt your feelings, and it's a good many years ago now, but I could have sworn—well, I must out with it. She is the living image of your wife."
"Indeed, that cannot hurt my feelings, as she is her daughter."
"Her daughter! Your daughter!" gasped Emmett.
A small serving-maid, with the ears of a rabbit, was listening spell-bound at the open window. Here, indeed, was a choice tit-bit for the milkman, and the postman, and the butcher's and grocer's boys. From this lower current the stream of talk flowed upwards until it reached the august drawing-room of Mrs. Taylor-Smith.
She drove in frantic haste to Lady Margaret's villa, and fired questions broadside.
"Oh, yes," said Jack's mother, suavely. "It is quite true. Of course I have known it from the first. According to present arrangements the marriage will take place in the spring. Enid's marriage settlement will be nearly quarter of a million."