"A year and a half, sir."
"And she came from London?"
"Yes, sir."
"And she was an orphan, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"Always as cheerful as she is now?"
"Always, sir."
Robert emptied his teacup and handed it to Mrs. Marks. Their eyes met—a lazy look in his, and an active, searching glance in hers.
"This woman would be good in a witness-box," he thought; "it would take a clever lawyer to bother her in a cross-examination."
He finished his second cup of tea, pushed away his plate, fed his dogs, and lighted his pipe, while Phoebe carried off the tea-tray.