"What an awful place it must be. Whatever one does is wrong."
"On the contrary, whatever one does is right."
"Then all things are correct in Bohemia!"
"How can that be, Margaret? There are things—no, there aren't, and—and—I'm afraid I've got myself into an awful tangle. You've quite turned my head with your logic."
He began to move across the room towards the door.
"If it's only my logic that turns your head, then I take everything back. I won't speak to you ever again."
"My goodness!" began Morgan, losing his wits, forgetting he held the candle and letting it fall. The light vanished like a spectre. "I beg your pardon," he ejaculated, in some astonishment, whilst Margaret's laugh rang out.
Just as he stooped down to recover the candle, they became aware of footsteps, and in a moment the handle of the outer door was being turned.
"All dark," said Diana's voice. "Then I suppose they're not here—or, at least, I shouldn't like to think they were. I fancy Marjy put a candle and matches on the table."
They heard the sound of her fumbling, and, as if by common understanding, they remained still as mice. Then Diana declared the things weren't there, and Archibald suggested they might inspect the place in the dark.