'Probably not,' he answered composedly. 'Tell me, how does she take it?'
'Deadly seriously. She's practising Deep-breathing and Concentration to try and drive the man from her thoughts.'
'What! Oh, you mean Theosophy and that kind of thing. I went to hear Mrs Annie Besant lecture once, and I couldn't make head or tail of it.'
'No. You wouldn't. But it was a German Professor who taught B—— No. I will NOT tell you her name.'
'Anyway, I know that it begins with a "B." And I know that she's got one relation called Molly, and another called Chris, and a friend whose name is Rosamond—likewise that Rosamond is the wife of Luke.... By Jove!' He stopped short and looked at Mrs Gildea with sharp enlightenment.
They were in the veranda of her cottage, and he was seated on the steps smoking, his long legs stretched out against one veranda post, his broad back against another. 'Seen the paper this morning?' he asked.
'No. If you pass the CHRONICLE Office, I wish you'd lodge a complaint for me against the vagaries of their distribution department. Twice lately I haven't had the paper till the afternoon.'
He pulled it from his pocket, and, leaning across, handed it to her.
'Read the English Telegrams,' he said.
Joan stopped cleaning her typewriter and examined the column of latest intelligence.