Wayward, the Clearing House won't lift a penny's weight from the load on their shoulders.

_I_ know.

There's a string of banks due to blow up; the fuse has been lighted, and it's up to us to stand clear--" "Oh, hush!" whispered Constance in a frightened voice; the door swung open; a gust of chilly air sent the ashes in the fireplace whirling upward among the leaping flames.
Young Mrs.Malcourt entered the room.
Her gown, which was dark--and may have been black--set off her dead-white face and hands in a contrast almost startling.

Confused for a moment by the brilliancy of the lamplight she stood looking around her; then, as Portlaw waddled forward, she greeted him very quietly; recognised and greeted Wayward, and then slowly turned toward Constance.
There was a pause; the girl took a hesitating step forward; but Miss Palliser met her more than half-way, took both her hands, and, holding them, looked her through and through.
Malcourt's voice broke in gravely: "It is most unfortunate that my return to duty should happen under such circumstances.

I do not think there is any man in the world for whom I have the respect--and affection--that I have for Hamil." Wayward was staring at him almost insolently; Portlaw, comfortably affected, shook his head in profound sympathy, glancing sideways at the door where his butler always announced dinner.