The admiral followed the direction of her gaze. "Olivia," he answered, in a voice that took it for granted that he had no need to say more.
"Olivia?"
"My wife."
"Oh!" breathed Joan, feeling horribly embarrassed. She wished that she had not asked. Poor admiral, people said that he had loved her a great deal!
"Where is she?" inquired Milly.
Joan thought: "Of all the idiotic questions! Has she forgotten that he's a widower?" She was on tenterhooks.
The admiral gave a little sigh. "She died a long time ago," he said, and stared fixedly at the portrait.
Joan pulled Milly round. "Oh, look, what a pet of a canary!" she said foolishly. She and Milly went over to the cage; the bird hopped twice and put his head on one side. He examined them out of one black bead.
The admiral came up behind them. "That's Julius Cæsar," he volunteered.
Joan turned with relief; he was smiling. He opened the door of the cage and thrust in a finger, whistling softly; the canary bobbed, then it jumped on to the back of his hand, ignoring the finger. Very slowly and gently he with drew his hand and lifted the bird up to his face. It put its beak between his lips and kissed him, then its mood changed and it nipped his thumb. He laughed, and replaced it in the cage.