Watson leans forward, resting his hands on the rail. "He does have a particularly jaundiced cast to his complexion," he says agreeably. "And the lady?" He tips his head at her. She is young -- considerably younger than her stout, jaundiced companion -- with piles of blonde curls atop her head, dressed in a frothy red confection of a gown. Elbow-length gloves cover her hands, hiding whether she wears a ring on her finger.