...

Mr .-- ." A bow, and the dim eyes peering up at Plank, who stood fumbling for his card-case.
Fleetwood dropped both cards on the salver unsteadily extended.

The butler ushered them into a dim room on the right.
"How is Mr.Siward ?" asked Fleetwood, pausing on the threshold and dropping his voice.
The old man hesitated, looking down, then still looking away from Fleetwood: "Bravely, sir, bravely, Mr.Fleetwood." "The Siwards were always that," said the young man gently.
"Yes, sir.

...

Thank you.