His friends broke into triumph, his political enemies--he had few others--strove for a deeper frown and a growling note.

The only indifferent in Lynch's was Adam Gaudylock, who smoked tranquilly on, not having read the letter in question nor being concerned with Roman history.

Lewis Rand sat in silence with compressed lips, bodily there in the lit coffee room, but the inner man far away on the mind's dark plains, struggling with the fiend that dogged him.
Fairfax Cary's cheek glowed and his eyes shone.

He looked at his brother, then poured a glass of wine and raised it to his lips.

"Wait, Fairfax! We'll all drink with you!" cried a neighbour.