In another corner was a target for the bow and arrow-evidence of the vigorous life of the owners of the house.
On the morning after Carnac told his mother he was going away, the doors of the house were all open.

Midway between breakfast and lunch, the voices of children sang through the dining-room bright with the morning sun.

The children were going to the top of the mountain-the two youngsters who made the life of Fabian and his wife so busy.

Fabian was a man of little speech.

He was slim and dark and quiet, with a black moustache and smoothly brushed hair, with a body lithe and composed, yet with hands broad, strong, stubborn.
As Junia stood by the dining-room table and looked at the alert, expectant children, she wished she also was going now to the mountain-top.