"I came," she said, "to see Violet and the Baby."
At that he smiled also, half furtively. "And have you seen them?"
"Oh yes. I've been sitting with Violet for the last hour. I must be going now."
"Going? Why, what's the hurry?"
"Well—"
"Well—" He tried to sound the little word as she did. He remembered it, the funny little word that summed up her evasiveness, her reluctance, her absurdity.
She was still standing by the doorstep, stroking the sham porphyry pillar with her childish hand, as if she wanted to see what it was made of.
"It isn't reelly marble," Ransome said.
She gazed at him, wondering. "What isn't?"
"That pillar."