夜雨聆风“Oh, but I didn’t. That was Mr. Jefferson—”
Mrs. Bantry said: “Jefferson?”
“Yes, he’s an invalid.”
“Not Conway Jefferson? But I know him well. He’s an old friend of ours.
Arthur, listen—Conway Jefferson. He’s staying at the Majestic, and it washe who went to the police! Isn’t that a coincidence?”
Josephine Turner said:
“Mr. Jefferson was here last summer too.”
“Fancy! And we never knew. I haven’t seen him for a long time.” Sheturned to Josie. “How—how is he, nowadays?”
Josie considered.
“I think he’s wonderful, really—quite wonderful. Considering, I mean.
He’s always cheerful—always got a joke.”
“Are the family there with him?”
“Mr. Gaskell, you mean? And young Mrs. Jefferson? And Peter? Oh, yes.”
There was something inhibiting Josephine Turner’s usual attractivefrankness of manner. When she spoke of the Jeffersons there was some-thing not quite natural in her voice.
Mrs. Bantry said: “They’re both very nice, aren’t they? The young ones, Imean.”
Josie said rather uncertainly:
“Oh yes—yes, they are. I—we—yes, they are, really.”
