Anyhow, I am a convalescent, and the privileges of convalescence are mine.

I vote for that hansom, Brind." After dinner they sat around the fire and talked.

Although it was June, it had been a sunless day of arid east wind, and Lady Agatha, who always snatched at the least excuse for a fire because it was so beautiful, had ordered one to be lit.

The three long windows were open beyond the red leather screen that made a cosy corner of the fireplace, and the scent of flowers came in from the balcony.
Paul Jardine talked as much as they desired him to talk.

He started on his hobby about those West African peoples, and rode it with spirit and energy.