Mr.Lynch bustled forward.

"Ha, Mr.Cary, your letters are waiting! Mr.Fairfax Cary,--your servant, sir!--Eli, wine for Mr.
Cary--_the_ Madeira.

Christopher, more wood to the fire! The night is falling cold." "Very cold, Mr.Lynch," said Ludwell Cary.

"Colonel Ambler--Mr.Wickham, we meet again!"-- and his brother, "We never have such cold in Albemarle, Mr.Lynch! Ha, your fire is good, and your wine's good, and your company's good.

There's a table by the fire, Ludwell." They moved to it, exchanging greetings, as they went, with half the room, sat down, drank each a glass of wine, and fell to their letters, careless of the surrounding war of words.