“Thank you, Martin,” she replied graciously. As usual Brendon lit the candles, and Sydney dragged out the spiritlamp and set it going. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. I’ve told you that practically already. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness. There stepped forth a tall brown man.
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