The afternoon post had arrived with the newspapers and he took up a paper. But it was printed in some language unknown to him, though he recognised some of the letters.
How long had he been gone, an hour, a day, a year?
He looked at the clock.
Half-past two. But this great shock with which the air was still rocking might have stopped it. He put his ear to it. Strange! It was going. And it always stopped so easily, even if the housemaid dusted it.
Was it half-past two in the afternoon or in the night?
There was a band of sunshine across the floor and outside the gardens and the downs were steeped in it.
Perhaps it was day.
The butler brought in a tray, and placed it near him.
"Have you had luncheon, sir?"
Wentworth thought a moment, and then said "yes."