"Oh, Clive! No! When I tell you I had rather not see so—so clearly—"
"You dear girl!" he exclaimed, half smiling, half serious, "why should it distress you?"
"It doesn't—except to talk about it."
"Let me ask one more question. May I?"
She nodded.
"Then—did you recognise whoever it was you saw a few moments ago?"
"Yes."
"Who was it, Athalie?"
"My mother."