” He nodded twice, with his eyes on the fire, as though that was a formal statement. ‘I am Major Gerald Alderley of the West Kent Militia. "Poor fellow! I'm glad he has escaped. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity. The study seemed absolutely unaltered, there was still the same lamp with a little chip out of the shade, still the same gas fire, still the same bundle of blue and white papers, it seemed, with the same pink tape about them, at the elbow of the arm-chair, still the same father. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. "Aren't you afraid?" "Of what?"—serenely. ‘That way.
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