“There you are!” he said. “I’ve been waiting.”

Soames stroked his shoulder, and, taking up a silver buttonhook, examined the mark on it.

“Well,” he said, “you’re looking better.”

James shook his head.

“I want to say something. Your mother hasn’t heard.” He announced Emily’s ignorance of what he hadn’t told her, as if it were a grievance.

“Your father’s been in a great state all the evening. I’m sure I don’t know what about.”

The faint whisk-whisk of the brushes continued the soothing of her voice.