A portrait of Louis XVI.

in a faded frame hung over the mantelpiece.
"And the time will come," pursued Colville, with his melancholy, sympathetic smile, "when you will find it necessary to drop the pilot--to turn your face seaward and your back upon old recollections and old associations.

You cannot make an omelette without breaking eggs, my friend." "Oh yes," replied Barebone, with a brisk movement of the head, "I shall have to forget Farlingford." Colville had moved toward the door that led to his own room.

He paused, examining the wick of the candle he carried in his hand.

Then, though glib of speech, he decided in favour of silence, and went away without making reply.
Loo sat down in a grey old arm-chair in front of the fire.