You will excuse us, Rector ?" She bowed to the old man.

Mr.Rogers stood aside to let her pass, then followed.

The door closed behind them.
Mr.Doidge fumbled in his pockets, found his spectacles, adjusted them with a shaking hand, and sat down before the bureau to search for the licence.

The pigeon-holes contained but a few bundles of papers, all tied very neatly with red tape and docketed.

(Neatness, at any rate, was one of Mr.Whitmore's virtues.