"You mean--you mean the third son--the one that was here this evening ?" "Yes, the--the youngest," she returned, her voice so feeble it was almost a whisper.
And then neither of them spoke for several long minutes.

Nor did either look at the other during that silence.
At last Mr.Vertrees contrived to cough, but not convincingly.
"What--ah--what was it Mary said about him out in the hall, when she came in this afternoon?
I heard you asking her something about him, but she answered in such a low voice I didn't--ah--happen to catch it." "She--she didn't say much.

All she said was this: I asked her if she had enjoyed her walk with him, and she said, 'He's the most wistful creature I've ever known.'" "Well ?" "That was all.

He IS wistful-looking; and so fragile--though he doesn't seem quite so much so lately.

I was watching Mary from the window when she went out to-day, and he joined her, and if I hadn't known about him I'd have thought he had quite an interesting face." "If you 'hadn't known about him'?
Known what ?" "Oh, nothing, of course," she said, hurriedly.