“John’s place? Never. No one could.” She did not add that there were other places that a man—the right man—might make in her heart, and that she was lonely. But the thought was clear in her mind, and it glanced through Latham’s.
“How long is it—since you were in Hong Kong?” he ventured presently.
Angela Hilary dimpled and laughed. “I’ll be twenty-eight next week.”
“And I was forty-seven last week.” And then he added earnestly, “Thank you for telling me.”
“Oh, I was glad to.” Neither referred to her confidence about her age, or thought that the other did.
At that moment “Mr. Pryde” was announced. Angela welcomed him effusively, brewed him fresh tea and plied him with molasses candy and hot ginger-bread.
Latham watched her; it was always pleasant to watch this woman, especially when plying some womanly craft, as now, but he spoke to Stephen. “I am glad to have this chance of offering you my congratulations, Pryde.”
Stephen raised a puzzled eyebrow. “Your congratulations?”
“I hear that since you have become the head of the house of Bransby you have done great things.”
“Oh,” Stephen said non-committally.