"Ten months, one week, two days, four hours and a half!"
Against such exactitude of memory what appeal has he? He attempts none, and only thinks with a faint unjust irritation that she might have spared him the odd hours.
"And how are things going? How are you all getting on?" he asks, precipitating himself upon a fresh subject, since he feels prevented by circumstances from saying anything likely to bring him much distinction upon the old one. "Your father?"
"His throat is better"—with an accent of hesitating filial piety, as if there were something else about him that was not better.
"And Sybilla?"
"Oh, poor Sybilla! she has her bad days now and then."
"And, like the early Christians, she resolves to have all things in common. I expect that her family have their bad days too," says Jim dryly.
"Well, we do sometimes," replies Amelia with reluctant admission; "but she really does try to control herself, poor thing; she is hardly ever unbearable now."
"And Cecilia?"
"She is rather in trouble just now; I fear there is no doubt that the man she was engaged to has thrown her over. You never saw him? Oh no! Of course, the affair came on after you left England."