The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. Don’t say anything, she thought to herself, say nothing more, Martin. Then she sat down—uninvited— and looked from one to the other curiously. I am one of those people who are interested in women, more interested than I am in anything else.
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