"I remember she was playing with that pot. I did not think she could get the lid off."
"She did, and somehow the case got kicked under the bed."
"Naughty Nella!" said the contessa.
"Oh, no," said Quarles. "Natural Nella. May I wash my hands?"
Well, we had tea with the contessa, and I saw the smile which rewarded
Christopher Quarles.
I suppose he had earned it.
"When did you first think of the child?" I asked him afterwards.
"From the first," he answered; "but I was too interested in the mother to work out the theory."
How exactly in accordance with the truth this answer was I will not venture to say. That he was interested in the woman was obvious, and continued to be obvious while she remained in London.
Zena and I were rather relieved when her professional engagements took her to Berlin.