Hugh Ritson had regained his self-possession. He assumed an air of indifference.
"Well, yes—no, of course not—no," he said, emphatically, at last.
In his heart there was another answer. He thought for the moment when he set eyes on the picture that it looked like—a little like—his own mother's face.
They walked on. Mr. Bonnithorne's constant smile parted his lips. Lifting his voice rather unnecessarily, he said:
"By the way, another odd coincidence! Would you like to know the name of Grace Ormerod's child by Robert Lowther?"
Hugh Ritson's heart leaped within him, but he preserved an outward show of indifference, and drawled:
"Well, what was it?"
"Paul."
The name went through him like an arrow, then he said, rather languidly:
"So the half-brother of Greta Lowther, wherever he is, is named—"