There was a huge desk of heavily carved ebony at one end, and at the centre, a couple of straight-backed chairs stood before a great fireplace at the outer wall, flanked by two bookshelves with casement windows above. “I see nothing of my sister,” she said. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. Cathy had not even noticed that she herself was wet and trailing water everywhere. The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood.
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