“No. I meet no women but mine sister.”
“She is a lovely lady.”
“So?”
It was evident that the Master had no interest in Margaret Irving, but the Doctor still brooded upon the vision. She was different from anyone else in East Lancaster, and he admired her very much.
“That boy,” said the Doctor, again, “he has her eyes.”
“Whose?”
“His mother’s.”
“So?”
The interval lengthened into an hour, and presently the kitchen clock struck ten. “I shall go now,” remarked the Doctor, rising.
“Not yet,” said the Master. “Come!”