Logs burned merrily on the big open hearth, throwing up showers of golden sparks.

Above the chimneypiece there was a wonderful old plaster coat-of-arms, dating back to the seventeenth century, and the watery gleams of sunshine, filtering in through the diamond panes of latticed windows, fell lingeringly on the waxen surface of an ancient dresser.

On the dresser shelves were lodged some willow-pattern plates, their clear, tender blue bearing witness to an early period.
"How like Maryon it all is!" whispered Nan.
And just then Rooke himself came into the room.

He had altered very little.

It was the same supple, loose-limbed figure that approached.
The pointed Van Dyck beard was as carefully trimmed, the hazel eyes, with their misleading softness of appeal, as arresting as of old.
Perhaps he bore himself with a little more assurance.