Valancy couldn’t guess.

“Edward Beck.” Cousin Georgiana lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Edward Beck.”

Why the italics? And was Cousin Georgiana blushing?

“Who on earth is Edward Beck?” asked Valancy indifferently.

Cousin Georgiana stared.

“Surely you remember Edward Beck,” she said reproachfully. “He lives in that lovely house on the Port Lawrence road and he comes to our church — regularly. You must remember him.”

“Oh, I think I do now,” said Valancy, with an effort of memory. “He’s that old man with a wen on his forehead and dozens of children, who always sits in the pew by the door, isn’t