They wanted to move out of this house; it was too large for them.
It was so nice for Lilian to have such a comfortable office to work in.
But it was a long way to come home, when the weather was bad.
The weather was very bad to-day.
The summer, one supposed, was breaking up.
After all, it was not so very out of season.
Mr Quain must find his work very interesting.
And so on.
Tea was brought in by a girl who was Lilian on a smaller scale. "Edith, this is Mr Quain," said Lilian; and to Humphrey, "This is my sister Edith." She put the tray down, and shook hands limply. He noticed that she had precisely the same coloured eyes as Lilian's, but they were weaker, and she did not carry herself well. She seemed but a pale shadow of the splendid reality of Lilian. Then Florence, the other sister, came into the room; she was the young girl whom Humphrey had seen over the railings as he stood on the doorstep. She was undeveloped, but her face and figure bore great promise of a beautiful womanhood. Her hair was of a reddish colour, and hung in a long plait down her back. Her face was quite unlike Lilian's: he judged that she resembled her father.
"You look dreadful, child," said Lilian, with a laugh. "Go and wash your face, little pig."