Dion suppressed a smile. That day he had gained the impression that Mrs. Clarke had a will of iron.
When he went up to say good-by to her, Daventry had already gone; he said he had work to do on the case.
“May I wish you success?” Dion ventured to say, as he took her hand.
“Thank you,” she answered. “I think you must go in for athletic exercises, don’t you?”
Her eyes were fixed on the breadth of his chest, and then traveled to his strong, broad shoulders.
“Yes, I’m very keen on them.”
“I want my boy to go in for them. It’s so important to be healthy.”
“Rather!”
He felt the Stamboul touch in her soft, hot hand. As he let it go, he added:
“I can give you the address of a first-rate instructor if your boy ever wants to be physically trained. I go to him. His name’s Jenkins.”