Will went to open.

There stood Godfrey Sherwood, shrunk together like a man suffering from cold; he scarcely raised his eyes.
Will's purpose, on finding Sherwood at his door, was to admit him without a word, or any form of greeting; but the sight of that changed face and pitiful attitude overcame him; he offered a hand, and felt it warmly pressed.
They were together in the room; neither had spoken.

Will pointed to a chair, but did not himself sit down.
"I suppose it's all true, Warburton," began the other in a low voice, "but I can't believe it yet.

I seem to be walking in a nightmare; and when you gave me your hand at the door, I thought for a second that I'd just woke up." "Sit down," said Will, "and let's have it out.

Give me the details." "That's exactly what I wish to do.