"Where are the packets committed to your charge by Sir Rowland Trenchard?" "The packets!" exclaimed Kneebone, in alarm. The oranges were of the Syrian variety, small but filled with scarlet honey. "Oh, I've read that!" Spurlock had heard distinctly enough all of this odd conversation; but until the spinster's reference to the family album, no phrase had been sufficient in strength of attraction to break the trend of his own unhappy thoughts. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. His inclinations prompted him most decidedly to take the vacant chair. I don’t want to know. He was a handsome man, and Lucy could see the strong resemblance of John to him.
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