The candles are unlit; and the warm fire--evidently long undisturbed--is shedding only a dull and deceiving light on all the objects over which it ranges.

So far, at least, Fortune favors me.

Barbara and Vick are sitting on the hearth-rug, side by side.

As I enter, they both jump up, and run to meet me.

One of them gives little raptured squeaks of recognition.