“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.
CHAPTER III
HILARY'S BROWN STUDY
“What do you really think, Uncle Hilary?”