He, too, however, was uneasy that Thyme should know so much.
The dusk was gathering outside; the fire threw a flickering light, fitfully outlining their figures, making those faces, so familiar to each other, a little mysterious.
At last Stephen broke the silence.

"Of course, I'm very sorry for her, but you'd better let it alone--you can't tell with that sort of people; you never can make out what they want--it's safer not to meddle.

At all events, it's a matter for a Society to look into first!" Cecilia answered: "But she's, on my conscience, Stephen." "They're all on my conscience," muttered Hilary.
Bianca looked at him for the first time; then, turning to her nephew, said: "What do you say, Martin ?" The young man, whose face was stained by the firelight the colour of pale cheese, made no answer.
But suddenly through the stillness came a voice: "I have thought of something." Everyone turned round.

Mr.Stone was seen emerging from behind "The Shadow"; his frail figure, in its grey tweeds, his silvery hair and beard, were outlined sharply against the wall.
"Why, Father," Cecilia said, "we didn't know that you were here!" Mr.Stone looked round bewildered; it seemed as if he, too, had been ignorant of that fact.
"What is it that you've thought of ?" The firelight leaped suddenly on to Mr.Stone's thin yellow hand.
"Each of us," he said, "has a shadow in those places--in those streets." There was a vague rustling, as of people not taking a remark too seriously, and the sound of a closing door..