“Oh, no,” Jean replied readily enough, “I don’t think it is a common name. Lady Anne married into a junior branch of the family, I believe,” she added.
“That would not be considered a very good match for a peer’s daughter, surely?” hazarded the Countess. “A junior branch? I suppose there was a romantic love-affair of some kind behind it?”
“It was Lady Anne’s second marriage. Her first husband was a Tormarin—one of the oldest families in England.” Jean spoke rather stiffly. There was something jarring about the pertinacious catechism.
Madame de Varigny’s lips trembled as she put her next question, and not even the dusky fringe of lashes could quite soften the sudden tense gleam in her eyes.
“Tor—ma—rin!” She pronounced the name with a French inflection, evidently finding the unusual English word a little beyond her powers. “What a curious name! That, I am sure, must be uncommon. And this Lady Anne—she has children—sons? No?”
“Oh, yes. She has two sons.”
“Indeed?” Madame de Varigny looked interested. “And what are the sons called?”
Jean regarded her with mild surprise. Apparently the subject of nomenclature had a peculiar fascination for her.
“I really forget. My father did once tell me, but I don’t recollect what he said.”
A perceptible shade of disappointment passed over the other’s face, then, as though realising that she had exhibited a rather uncalled-for curiosity, she said deprecatingly: