“Not in this rig-out,” said Bertram, glancing at his shabby clothes.
Murless pooh-poohed that reason.
“Any old dress does nowadays. Besides, I’ll introduce you as a literary man. You’ll be adored by the women.”
He congratulated Bertram on his essays in The New World.
“You’ve quite a touch! Guy de Maupassant has a rival.”
Again Bertram suspected irony, but Kenneth looked at him in his friendliest way, disarming hostility, and his next words were kind.
“I was deeply shocked to hear of your mother’s death; and Digby. Please accept my sympathy.”
Then he gave Bertram another piece of news, striking in its unexpectedness.
“By the way, your sister is in Paris. Poor pretty Susan.”
By that word “poor” he revealed his knowledge of that tragedy in Mountjoy Prison. He had met her in the Tuileries gardens, with another girl. He had raised his hat to her, but she had looked through his body for a thousand miles.