"They don't seem to have time to think of me.

I suppose I had better let you go in.

They'd be furious if they thought I was keeping you." They passed into the villa, and with a farewell pat of the hand Hunterleys left her and opened a door on the left-hand side of the hall.
The young man who had met him coming out of the Opera was standing with his hands in his pockets, upon the hearth-rug of an exceedingly untidy-looking apartment.

There was a table covered with papers, another piled with newspapers.

There were books upon the floor, pipes and tobacco laid about haphazard.