"She's a cousin of my stepmother's."
He considered it.
"And Mrs.—er—Cartaret lives in London, doesn't she?"
"Oh, yes."
Mary's tone implied that you couldn't expect that brilliant lady to live anywhere else.
There was a moment in which Rowcliffe again evoked the image of the third Mrs. Cartaret who was "the very one." If anything could have depressed him more, that did.
But he pulled himself together. There were things he had to know.
"And does your sister like living in London?"
Mary smiled. "I imagine she does very much indeed."
"Somehow," said Rowcliffe, "I can't see her there. I thought she liked the country."