Your message reminded me of it again.

I can't imagine what association I had with a hand like that, but I surely had some." "You had some ?" Mr.Tulkinghorn repeats.
"Oh, yes!" returns my Lady carelessly.

"I think I must have had some.
And did you really take the trouble to find out the writer of that actual thing--what is it!--affidavit ?" "Yes." "How very odd!" They pass into a sombre breakfast-room on the ground floor, lighted in the day by two deep windows.

It is now twilight.

The fire glows brightly on the panelled wall and palely on the window-glass, where, through the cold reflection of the blaze, the colder landscape shudders in the wind and a grey mist creeps along, the only traveller besides the waste of clouds.
My Lady lounges in a great chair in the chimney-corner, and Sir Leicester takes another great chair opposite.