“When he left the dining-room.”
Black looked at her attentively and noted the flush which had mounted to her pale cheeks during their colloquy.
“I must remind you, madam,” he commenced, and his manner was serious, “that you have not answered my question regarding the relationship existing between your daughter and Mr. Brainard.”
“They were friends,” curtly.
“Nothing more?” persisted the coroner.
Mrs. Porter regarded him with no friendly eye, then apparently thinking better of her brusqueness, answered more courteously:
“Mr. Brainard admired my daughter greatly, and paid her the compliment of asking my consent to their marriage.”
“Did you give your consent?” prompted Black as she stopped.
“He was to have had my answer this morning.”
“Oh!” The coroner gazed blankly at Mrs. Porter, failing utterly to appreciate her stately beauty and quietly gowned, modish figure. She was a remarkably well preserved woman, on whose face time had left few wrinkles, and she looked much younger than she was. Several seconds elapsed before Black again addressed her.