But she threw a big log of wood on the fire, and the flames shot up, filling the room with shafts of rosy, fitful light.
There was a pause.

Varick said something in a rather cheerful, matter-of-fact voice to Miss Brabazon, and Bubbles turned round sharply: "I'm afraid we ought to have complete silence--even silence of thought," she said solemnly.
Blanche Farrow looked at the girl.

What queer jargon was this?
In the wavering light thrown by the fire Bubbles' face looked tense and rather strained.
Was it possible, Blanche asked herself with a touch of uneasiness, that the child was taking this seriously--that she _believed_ in it at all?
Her father thought so, but then Hugh Dunster was such an old fool! The moments ran by.

One or two of the chairs creaked.

James Tapster yawned, and he put up his hand rather unwillingly to hide his yawn.