my friend and myself going home with him to supper. All the time that we were having supper, in every gesture, every movement, every little action, every intonation of his voice, he so reminded me of Mr. Groome that—well, the Corsican Brothers, and Lesurques and Dubose in The Lyons Mail are not in it, as regards resembling each other, compared to the resemblance, Mr. Groome, which Mr. Isaac Goad has to you."
I daresay I told my story with a little excitement of manner. I think it possible that I did. I fancy that it created an impression, and that not altogether of an agreeable kind. At least, I gathered as much from the way in which Mrs. Groome spoke to me.
"Yours is a strange story, Mr. Attree. As you are possibly aware, Mr. Groome has no male relatives living, and we in the county are apt to think, not only that the Groome features have been handed down from generation to generation, but that they are, in a way, unique."
"Just so; I can easily believe it, Mrs. Groome. I certainly saw no one in the least like Mr. Groome till I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Groome, and until I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Goad, but that only makes the likeness between them the more remarkable."
"Is this Mr. Isaac Goad a married man?"
Mr. Groome asked the question, as it seemed to me, a little dryly.
"Not so far as I know. He occupies bachelor's chambers."
"When was this concert at the Apollo Club?"
