There was little of that repose about him that a Guiseley needed.
It would be about half-past nine that the sound of an opening door, and voices, from the further end of the terrace, told them that the smoking-room conference was over, and they stood up as Jenny, very upright and pale in the twilight, with her host at her side, came up towards them.

Dick noticed that the cigar his uncle carried was smoked down almost to the butt, and augured well from that detail.

The old man's arm was in the girl's, and he supported himself on the other side, limping a little, on his black stick.
He sat down with a grunt and laid his stick across the table.
"Well, boys, we've settled it," he said.

"Jenny's to write the telegram." "No one need be anxious any more," announced Jenny imperturbably.

"Lord Talgarth's extremely angry still, as he has every right to be, and Frank's going to be allowed to go on the tramp if he wants to." The Rector waited, in deferential silence, for corroboration.
"Jenny's a very sensible girl," observed Lord Talgarth.