'Then that, at least, is true. Here I do not know what is lies and what is truth. Will you sit down on this bench, sir? Mrs. Tomkin-Jones lives in the corner house yonder, with an eye looking this way and another that.'
'Do you think that her eye is on us now?'
'No; the sun shines in at it, so the blind is down.'
'How long do you remain with her?' Mr. Holwood's chin was too retreating for him to be able to lodge it on the handle of his umbrella, but he attempted to do so repeatedly, and as often failed.
'Till the rubbing and polishing are done. That will be long. I am harder than a chalcedony.'
'This is a dreadful shock to me.'
'A shock to meet your child?'
'I mean, I mean a surprise. I am taking the waters. Strong emotions I have been instructed to avoid. I am not well. A dreadful menace hangs over me, a sword of Damocles. I have been ordered here by my medical attendant. I feel unhinged at the news.' Then changing his tone, and disengaging his hand from the umbrella, he took Winefred's fingers in his nerveless grasp, and said, 'My child—yes, my child—it is soothing to the feelings—to the heart of a desolate, a sick, maybe a death-stricken man, to know that he has a child.'
'And a wife.'
He winced and let go her hand.