No one could help loving her, could they, Piers ?" "Have an orange!" said Piers, pulling the dish towards him.
"Oh, thank you, I mustn't stop," Gracie turned to Sir Beverley and lifted her bright face.

"Good-bye! Thank you for being so kind." There was no irony in her thanks, and even he could scarcely refuse the friendly offer of her lips.

He stooped and grimly received her farewell salute on his cheek.
Piers loaded her with as many oranges as she could carry, and they finally departed through the great hall which Gracie surveyed with eyes of reverent admiration.
"It's as big as a church," she said, in an awed whisper.
Sir Beverley followed them to the front-door, and saw them out into the night.

Gracie waved an ardent farewell from her perch on Piers' shoulder, and he heard the merry childish laugh more than once after they had passed from sight.
The night air was chilly, and he turned inwards at length with an inarticulate growl, and shut the door.
Heavily he tramped across to the old carved settle before the fire, and dropped down upon it, his whole bearing expressive of utter weariness.
David came in with stealthy footfall and softly replenished the fire.
"Shall I bring the coffee, Sir Beverley ?" he asked him.
"No," said Sir Beverley.

"I'll ring." And David effaced himself without sound.
Half an hour passed, and Sir Beverley still sat there motionless as a statue, with thin lips drawn in a single bitter line, and eyes that gazed aloofly at the fire.