sympathetic, even tender, as well as apprehensive.

"'C.B.'? What do you mean--'C.B.'?"

"Don't you know what C.B. means?" exclaimed Audrey with scornful
superiority over the old spinster. "Confined to barracks. Father says I'm
not to go beyond the grounds for a month. And to-day's the second of
April!"

"No!"

"Yes, he does. He's given me a week, you know, before. Now it's a month."

Silence fell.

Miss Ingate looked round at the shabby study, with its guns, cigar-boxes,
prints, books neither old nor new, japanned boxes of documents, and general
litter scattered over the voluted walnut furniture. Her own house was
old-fashioned, and she realised it was old-fashioned; but when she came
into Flank Hall, and particularly into Mr. Moze's study, she felt as if
she was stepping backwards into history--and this in spite of the fact that
nothing in the place was really ancient, save the ceilings and the woodwork
round the windows. It was Mr. Moze's habit of mind that dominated and
transmogrified the whole interior, giving it the quality of a mausoleum.
The suffragette procession in which Miss Ingate had musically and
discreetly taken part seemed to her as she stood in Mr. Moze's changeless
lair to be a phantasm. Then she looked at the young captive animal and
perceived that two centuries may coincide on the same carpet and that time
is merely a convention.