"She was a Miss Abercrombie, I believe."
"Yes—I believe she was.... Told her he was a great admirer of her ladyship once on a time—a boyish freak—that sort of thing! Pretends all the gilt is off the gingerbread now. Wish I had been there when Sir Hamilton turned up at the Towers, after the accident."
"I was there."
"Well! And then?"
"Nothing and then. They were—just like anybody else. When I saw them was after his son had begun to pull round. Till then I fancy neither he nor the sister....
"Irene. ''Rene,' he calls her. Jolly sort of girl, and very handsome."
"Neither Irene nor her father came downstairs much. It was after you went away."
"And what did they say?—him and Philippa, I mean."
"Oh—say? What did they say? Really I can't remember. Said what a long time it was since they met. Because I don't believe they had met—not to shake hands—for five-and-twenty years!"
"What a rum sort of experience! Do you know?... only of course one can't say for certain about anything of this sort....