"Is there no talk of your--of Mr.Huntley coming back ?" Her eyelids droop: her breast heaves in a placid sigh.
"Not the slightest, I am afraid." What to say next?
I have had enough of asking after her child.

I will not fall into _that_ error again.

Ask who all the men in the rococo frames are ?--which of them, or whether any, is _Mr._ Huntley?
On consideration, I decide not to do this either; and, after one or two more stunted attempts at talk, I take my leave.

I ask Algy to accompany me just down the drive, and with a most grudging and sulky air of unwillingness he complies.

Alas! he always used to like to be with us girls.