[He stands by the fire, bowing his head upon the mantelpiece.
Mrs. Cloys.
[Looking at him, and speaking in a low voice.] Ah! a dying fire, the lamplight, the still streets——! The world is what it is, Mr. Allingham.
John.
Yes, and it’s a damnable world!
Quaife enters.
Quaife.
The lady has arrived, sir.
Mrs. Cloys rises.
John.