No one in this room would despise him for a platitude, were it but recommended with a pleasant smile.

With the Moxeys, with Earwaker, he durst not thus have spoken.
When the hour of separation was at hand, Buckland invited his guest to retire with him to a part of the house where they could smoke and chat comfortably.
'Moorhouse and Louis are fagged after their twenty mile stretch this morning; I have caught both of them nodding during the last few minutes.

We can send them to bed without apology.' He led the way upstairs to a region of lumber-rooms, whence a narrow flight of steps brought them into a glass-house, octangular and with pointed tops, out upon the roof.

This, he explained, had been built some twenty years ago, at a time when Mr.Warricombe amused himself with photography.

A few indications of its original purposes were still noticeable; an easel and a box of oil-colours showed that someone--doubtless of the younger generation--had used it as a painting-room; a settee and deep cane chairs made it an inviting lounge on a warm evening like the present, when, by throwing open a hinged wall, one looked forth into the deep sky and tasted the air from the sea.
'Sidwell used to paint a little,' said Buckland, as his companion bent to examine a small canvas on which a landscape was roughed in.