But the whole thickness of some learned counsel's treatise upon Torts did not screen him satisfactorily.

Through the pages he saw a drawing-room, very empty and spacious; he heard low voices, he saw women's figures, he could even smell the scent of the cedar log which flamed in the grate.
His mind relaxed its tension, and seemed to be giving out now what it had taken in unconsciously at the time.

He could remember Mr.
Fortescue's exact words, and the rolling emphasis with which he delivered them, and he began to repeat what Mr.Fortescue had said, in Mr.Fortescue's own manner, about Manchester.

His mind then began to wander about the house, and he wondered whether there were other rooms like the drawing-room, and he thought, inconsequently, how beautiful the bathroom must be, and how leisurely it was--the life of these well-kept people, who were, no doubt, still sitting in the same room, only they had changed their clothes, and little Mr.Anning was there, and the aunt who would mind if the glass of her father's picture was broken.

Miss Hilbery had changed her dress ("although she's wearing such a pretty one," he heard her mother say), and she was talking to Mr.Anning, who was well over forty, and bald into the bargain, about books.