The younger Miss Dippet was evidently a girl no longer. Max offered her the slightest of nods in silent agreement of her stance on the matter. Of course, perhaps she did not mean that; perhaps she was still more like her sister than she seemed. It had taken him much too long to notice how Nicky could so easily say one thing and mean quite another, that she had made a mask of herself he hadn’t seen through until it was far too late.

“Well, I am glad to see you -” he took a moment to seek out a suitable English word for it - “flourishing. In spite of those tragedies.” It was about as sincere as he ever came, though, again, was not lacking in self-interest - in this matter, and others. She might even be situated now, in her British society, as someone worth knowing, former family ties aside.

“Indeed, I hope to have the opportunity of meeting your husband someday soon,” Max added, though was sure he could find a way to bridge a friendship with the man whether or not Mrs. Devine saw fit to help fashion these ties. Regardless, that could wait for another day. He thought he had made his point, in the meantime. Now Mrs. Devine knew he was not so far removed from their lives here.

“And if you do see Nicky,” he advised, “tell her she should stay gone.”

---