Is he anything like his sister ?" She looked startled and murmured "Sister!" in a puzzled tone which astonished me.

"Oh! Mrs.Fyne," she exclaimed, recollecting herself, and avoiding my eyes while I looked at her curiously.
What an extraordinary detachment! And all the time the stream of shabby people was hastening by us, with the continuous dreary shuffling of weary footsteps on the flagstones.

The sunshine falling on the grime of surfaces, on the poverty of tones and forms seemed of an inferior quality, its joy faded, its brilliance tarnished and dusty.

I had to raise my voice in the dull vibrating noise of the roadway.
"You don't mean to say you have forgotten the connection ?" She cried readily enough: "I wasn't thinking." And then, while I wondered what could have been the images occupying her brain at this time, she asked me: "You didn't see my letter to Mrs.Fyne--did you ?" "No.

I didn't," I shouted.