"You mean the youngsters are--unfortunate ?" "No--they're only, like all the modern young, I think, mysteries, terrible little baffling mysteries." Vanderbank had found amusement again--it flickered so from his friend's face that, really at moments to the point of alarm, his explanations deepened darkness.

Then with more interest he harked back.

"I know the thing you just mentioned--the thing that strikes you as odd." He produced his knowledge quite with elation.
"The talk." Mr.Longdon on this only looked at him in silence and harder, but he went on with assurance: "Yes, the talk--for we do talk, I think." Still his guest left him without relief, only fixing him and his suggestion with a suspended judgement.

Whatever the old man was on the point of saying, however, he disposed of in a curtailed murmur; he had already turned afresh to the series of portraits, and as he glanced at another Vanderbank spoke afresh.
"It was very interesting to me to hear from you there, when the ladies had left us, how many old threads you were prepared to pick up." Mr.Longdon had paused.

"I'm an old boy who remembers the mothers," he at last replied.
"Yes, you told me how well you remember Mrs.Brookenham's." "Oh, oh!"-- and he arrived at a new subject.