Sir Charles felt that his performance had been a failure, and remarked, after a cough or two, that he had caught a touch of cold returning from the station.

Erskine sat on a sofa with his head drooping, and his palms joined and hanging downward between his knees.

Agatha stood at the window, looking at the late summer afterglow.

Jane yawned, and presently broke the silence.
"You look exactly as you used at school, Agatha.

I could almost fancy us back again in Number Six." Agatha shook her head.
"Do I ever look like that--like myself, as I used to be ?" "Never," said Agatha emphatically, turning and surveying the figure of which Miss Carpenter had been the unripe antecedent.
"But why ?" said Jane querulously.