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Updated: June 20, 2025
"Yes, sir, in the front row, with Mrs. Verity and Mrs. Frant. Do you wish to speak to her, sir? The Gallery's pretty empty." Arthur Coryston went in. The benches sloped upward, and on the lowest one, nearest the grille, he saw the lady of his quest, and was presently bending over her. "Well," he said, flushing, "I suppose you thought it all bosh!" "Not at all! That's what you have to say.
Arthur, who hung a little behind his sister, was different from her, being stout and square; but he, too, was not an attractive child, and there was a dormant sullenness in his under lip which showed he could be a very naughty one if he chose. "I told you so, Titia," said he, darting to an open door facing the staircase at the gallery's end. "There's papa's study fire lit.
At the sound of this voice Dick now stretched himself prone, and wriggled, Amaryllis thought, like some horrid worm, laying his left cheek to the floor until he reached a point where his right eye got its line of sight, between the uprights of the gallery's balustrade, on the four live men and the inert, midway between the door out of sight beneath him, and the place where the broken tea-pot had spilt its contents in an ugly pool near the lowest tread of the stair.
Half kneeling, half sitting upon the cushions, her head was already bent over the gallery's edge, and the scene below had claimed her eye and ear to the exclusion of all else.
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