I don't think he's any
member of the family."
"He must be," Wayne replied. "I know his voice. I have some association
with it, but just what I can't remember."
Miriam herself listened to hear him speak, catching only an irrelevant
word or two.
"He sounds English," she said then.
"No, he isn't English. That's not my association. It's curious how the
mind acts. Since I became--since my sight failed--my memory instinctively
brings me voices instead of faces, when I want to recall anything. Aren't
you going to speak to him? You've got the formula: Is this your bread or
mine?"
"It's very convenient, but I don't think I shall use it."
"He'd like you to, I know. I heard him say to Mrs. Endsleigh Jarrott as we
came in--while Queenie Jarrott was talking--that you were he most
strikingly beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life. How's that for a
compliment from a perfect stranger?"
"I certainly sha'n't speak to him now. A man who could say that to Mrs.
Endsleigh, after having seen _her,_ must be wofully wanting in tact."
Mary Pole on Wayne's right claimed his attention and Miriam was left her
own mistress.
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