The faint smell of dead rose leaves hung about the room.

Already one seemed conscious of a certain emptiness as though the genius of the place had gone.

Mr.Sabin leaned heavily upon his stick, and his head drooped lower and lower.

A soft, respectful voice came to him from the other room.
"In five minutes, sir, the carriage will be at the door.

I have your coat and hat here." Mr.Sabin looked up.
"I am quite ready, Duson!" he said.
* * * * * The servants in the hall stood respectfully aside to let him pass.