It was home-like and restful with its faded colouring, and absence of all show and overcrowding.

They sat there after dinner and discussed Joan's news.
Miss Greyson was repairing a piece of old embroidery she had brought back with her from Italy; and Greyson sat smoking, with his hands behind his head, and his long legs stretched out towards the fire.
"Carleton will want him to make his food policy include Tariff Reform," he said.

"If he prove pliable, and is willing to throw over his free trade principles, all well and good." "What's Carleton got to do with it ?" demanded Joan with a note of indignation.
He turned his head towards her with an amused raising of the eyebrows.
"Carleton owns two London dailies," he answered, "and is in treaty for a third: together with a dozen others scattered about the provinces.

Most politicians find themselves, sooner or later, convinced by his arguments.
Phillips may prove the exception." "It would be rather interesting, a fight between them," said Joan.
"Myself I should back Phillips." "He might win through," mused Greyson.

"He's the man to do it, if anybody could.