Cutting short ablutions that certainly were never protracted, he welcomed Derek, and motioned him to pass into the kitchen.

The young man went in, and perched himself on the window-sill beside a pot of Bridal Wreath.

The cottage was one of the Mallorings', and recently repaired.

A little fire was burning, and a teapot of stewed tea sat there beside it.

Four cups and spoons and some sugar were put out on a deal table, for Tryst was, in fact, brewing the morning draught of himself and children, who still lay abed up-stairs.