Elusive and irritating as she sometimes was, there was really nobody exactly like Miss Corinne.
Jack's mind had resumed its normal tone.

Garry's merry laugh and good-natured ridicule had helped, so had the discovery that none of his friends had had anything to do with Gilbert's fall.

After all, he said to himself, as he strode up the street beside his friend, it was "none of his funeral," none of his business, really.

Such things went on every day and in every part of the world.

Neither was it his Uncle Arthur's.
That was the most comforting part of all.
Corinne's voice calling over the banisters: "Is that you, Jack ?" met the two young men as they handed their hats to the noiseless Frederick.