“I dunno, sir.”
“Is—is there a Miss Darcy? Has Mr. Darcy a daughter?” his impatience wrestling with a desire to throttle the caretaker.
“I heerd that he has wan.”
“Heard! Don’t you know it?”
“I do not, sir. I’m a sthranger. I come from Stoneybatther, beyant the wather, but I heerd that Misther Darcy has a daughter, and that she is married—”
“Married!” reeling as if he had been struck a heavy blow.
“What’s all this, Bertie?” asked Kirwan uneasily.
“That photo there.”
“Yes, I see it.”
“It’s the photo of the girl I saw at the opening of the Paris Exhibition.”