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 approval or dissent; but this dismissed, she turned a melting face on Mrs. Peyton and said with one of her rapid modulations of tone: &quot;I was so sorry about poor Mr. Parrow.&quot;

Mrs. Peyton uttered an assenting sigh. &quot;It was a great grief to us—a great loss to my son.&quot;

&quot;Yes—I know. I can imagine what you must have felt. And then it was so unlucky that it should have happened just now.&quot;

Mrs. Peyton shot a reconnoitring glance at her profile. &quot;His dying, you mean, on the eve of success?&quot;

Miss Verney turned a frank smile upon her. &quot;One ought to feel that, of course but I'm afraid I am very selfish where my friends are concerned, and I was thinking of Mr. Peyton's having to give up his work at such a critical moment.&quot; She spoke without a note of deprecation: there was a pagan freshness in her opportunism.