Mrs. Denton's great empty house in
Gower Street? A central situation and near to the tube. Lords and
ladies had once ruffled there; trod a measure on its spacious floors;
filled its echoing stone hall with their greetings and their partings.
The gaping sconces, where their link-boys had extinguished their torches,
still capped its grim iron railings.
Seated in the great, sombre library, Joan hazarded the suggestion. Mrs.
Denton might almost have been waiting for it. It would be quite easy. A
little opening of long fastened windows; a lighting of chill grates; a
little mending of moth-eaten curtains, a sweeping away of long-gathered
dust and cobwebs.
Mrs. Denton knew just the right people. They might be induced to bring
their sons and daughters--it might be their grandchildren, youth being
there to welcome them. For Joan, of course, would play her part.
The lonely woman touched her lightly on the hand. There shot a pleading
look from the old stern eyes.
"You will have to imagine yourself my daughter," she said. "You are
taller, but the colouring was the same.
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