He looked round him—
"As Carlyle said to the old Queen, 'I'm getting old, madam, and with your leave I'll take a chair—'"
He pushed an arm-chair forward.
"And let me make up the fire. It's beginning to freeze outside."
Lady Winton moved quickly to the fireplace, holding out a prohibiting hand.
"There is quite enough fire, thank you. I am going out presently."
Delane sat down, and extended a pair of still shapely feet to the slender flame in the grate.
"Dick's boots!" he said, tapping them with his cane, and looking round at his sister. "What a lot of wear I've got out of them since he threw them away! His overcoat, too. And now that it's the thing to be shabby, Dick's clothes are really a godsend. I defraud Jones. But I have no doubt that Jones gets a good deal more than is good for him."
"Look here, Roger!—suppose you stop talking this nonsense and come to business," said Marianne Winton, in pale exasperation. "I've sent Jones out with a note—but he'll be back directly. And I've got an appointment. What are you doing? Have you got any work to do?"
She took a seat not far from her brother, who perceived from her tone that he had perhaps gone as far as was prudent.