indeed hadn't any manners. As soon as he had got near Vera he said to her, scanning her through his single glass from head to foot:
"Who is the young man who sat next you? the one at the other end of the room."
"I don't know his name, papa—I didn't catch it."
"Was he civil—did he talk to you?"
"Oh, a great deal, papa—about all sorts of things."
Something in the tone of her voice made him look with greater intensity and even with greater tenderness than usual into her little dim green eyes.
"Then you're all right—you're getting on?"
She gave her effusive smile—the one that perhaps wouldn't do in England. "Oh, beautifully, papa—every one's so kind."
She never complained, was a brave little optimist, full of sweet resources; but he had detected to-day, as soon as he looked at her, the particular shade of her content. It made him continue, after an hesitation: "He didn't say anything about his relations—anything that could give you a clew?"