Romana gave a little smile.
“I suppose that I must look so stupid,” she said, “that no one expects me to have such a brilliant and clever father. It is rather unfair.”
Mr. Barnham thought that she looked so young and lovely and it was therefore unlikely that anyone would expect her to be clever too.
He knew that nothing could be better or more encouraging to the Marquis than to find that his wife was not the nonentity he had thought her to be, but, from a scholar’s point of view, very important indeed.
“I remember some of the poems your father translated,” he said aloud to Romana, “and I thought that they were absolutely beautiful.”
“I love them too,” Romana said, “I learnt some of them when I was very little and, when I helped him translate them, I realised just how brilliant he was
