There was something about Mrs.Wilcox that evaded the touch of sorrow; but from certain things--food, clothes, furniture--she seemed to catch, as it were, the sense of tears, suggestions of the human tragedy.

She was peculiarly sensitive to interiors, and a drawing-room "without any of the little refinements and luxuries, you know--not so much as a flower-pot or a basket-table"-- weighed heavily on her happy soul.

Needless to say she had never dreamed that Nevill would let the house remain in its present state; her intellect could never have grasped so melancholy a possibility, and the fact was somewhat unsettling to her faith in Nevill Tyson.

"Isn't it--for a young bride, you know--just a little--a little _triste_ ?" And being more than a little afraid of her son-in-law, she waved her hands to give an inoffensive vagueness to her idea.

Tyson said he didn't care to spend money on a place like Thorneytoft; he didn't know how long he would stay in it; he never stayed anywhere long; he was a pilgrim and a stranger, a sort of cosmopolitan Cain, and he might go abroad again, or he might take a flat in town for the season.