Page:The Unspeakable Gentleman (IA unspeakablegent00marq).pdf/109

 himself—surprisingly able, Jason. Have you not found it so?"

"Thank heaven, yes!" he laughed, and glanced hastily at me again.

My father's coat lapel was bothering him. He straightened it thoughtfully, patted it gently into place, and then said:

"Surely, Jason, you did not come here to discuss the past."

"Perhaps not," Uncle Jason replied with another laugh, which seemed slightly out of tune in the silence that surrounded him, "but how can I not be reminded of it? This room and you—indeed Henry here is all that brings me back. He is like you, George, and yet—" he paused to favor me with another glance—"he has his mother's eyes."

My father flicked a speck of dust from his sleeve.

"Suppose," he suggested, "we leave your sister out of the discussion. Let us come down to practical matters and leave the dead alone."

It was the first time he had mentioned her. His voice was coldly aloof, but his hand began moving restlessly again over his coat in search of an imaginary wrinkle.

"You understand me?" he inquired gently