“That what-do-you-call-him man—the Polish nobleman who sent her the verses!”
“The curate!”
“Sir Neville Bruce!”
“One of the men she met at Brighton!”
“Wrong! wrong! wrong! Guess again. Nearer home this time. Someone you know!”
“Not Mr Rayner?”
“Oh, dear me, no! I should think not. He and Lettice never get on well together. Someone else.”
“Someone we know! But we know so few of her friends. Only Mr Neville, and the Bewleys, and—oh! No, it can’t—it can’t possibly be—”
“What? what? Who—who? Never mind if you are wrong. Say whom you are thinking of.”
“It—can’t be Arthur Newcome!”