Their gentle radiance penetrated but a little way into the great dark space lined with books, panelled and floored with black oak, where the acrid fragrance of leather and dried roseleaves seemed to drench the very soul with the aroma of the past.

Above the huge fireplace, with light falling on one side of his shaven face, hung a portrait--painter unknown--of that Cardinal Caradoc who suffered for his faith in the sixteenth century.

Ascetic, crucified, with a little smile clinging to the lips and deep-set eyes, he presided, above the bluefish flames of a log fire.
Father and son found some difficulty in beginning.
Each of those two felt as though he were in the presence of someone else's very near relation.

They had, in fact, seen extremely little of each other, and not seen that little long.
Lord Valleys uttered the first remark: "Well, my dear fellow, what are you going to do now?
I think we can make certain of this seat down here, if you like to stand." Miltoun had answered: "Thanks, very much; I don't think so at present." Through the thin fume of his cigar Lord Valleys watched that long figure sunk deep in the chair opposite.
"Why not ?" he said.

"You can't begin too soon; unless you think you ought to go round the world." "Before I can become a man of it ?" Lord Valleys gave a rather disconcerted laugh.
"There's nothing in politics you can't pick up as you go along," he said.