"No, no—go to bed. I know the house as well in the dark as I do in the daylight. I can go downstairs if necessary, and get a light at the fire."
"Good night, father."
"Good night, child."
Nance's door closed, and the two men passed along the gallery, Durrell holding De Rothan by the arm. The scholar's study was at the eastern end of the house. There were three rooms between it and Nance's, all of them empty and unfurnished, the keys rusting in the locks.
Durrell opened the door of his study, and led De Rothan in.
"What possessed the girl——?"
"Lucky you blew out the light. It would have been uncommonly awkward. Explanations—to women—always are awkward."
They spoke in whispers, and Durrell closed the door.
"I have a tinder-box on my table."
"Good."