"I suppose Mr.Wortley ..." she paused.
"Edward's death was a tragedy," said Miss Eliot decidedly.
Here Mr.Erskine joined them.
"There's no such thing as silence," he said positively.

"I can hear twenty different sounds on a night like this without counting your voices." "Make a bet of it ?" said Charlotte.
"Done," said Mr.Erskine.

"One, the sea; two, the wind; three, a dog; four ..." The others passed on.
"Poor Timothy," said Elsbeth.
"A very fine night," shouted Miss Eliot into Mr.Clutterbuck's ear.
"Like to look at the stars ?" said the old man, turning the telescope towards Elsbeth.
"Doesn't it make you melancholy--looking at the stars ?" shouted Miss Eliot.
"Dear me no, dear me no," Mr.Clutterbuck chuckled when he understood her.

"Why should it make me melancholy?
Not for a moment--dear me no." "Thank you, Timothy, but I'm coming in," said Miss Eliot.

"Elsbeth, here's a shawl." "I'm coming in," Elsbeth murmured with her eye to the telescope.
"Cassiopeia," she murmured.