Downstairs all was empty and dark; but on the upper floor a light still burnt in the room where the boots had dropped so heavily above Miss Allan's head.
Here was the gentleman who, a few hours previously, in the shade of the curtain, had seemed to consist entirely of legs.

Deep in an arm-chair he was reading the third volume of Gibbon's _History_ _of_ _the_ _Decline_ _and_ _Fall_ _of_ _Rome_ by candle-light.

As he read he knocked the ash automatically, now and again, from his cigarette and turned the page, while a whole procession of splendid sentences entered his capacious brow and went marching through his brain in order.

It seemed likely that this process might continue for an hour or more, until the entire regiment had shifted its quarters, had not the door opened, and the young man, who was inclined to be stout, come in with large naked feet.
"Oh, Hirst, what I forgot to say was--" "Two minutes," said Hirst, raising his finger.
He safely stowed away the last words of the paragraph.
"What was it you forgot to say ?" he asked.
"D'you think you _do_ make enough allowance for feelings ?" asked Mr.
Hewet.

He had again forgotten what he had meant to say.
After intense contemplation of the immaculate Gibbon Mr.Hirst smiled at the question of his friend.