“I must repeat,” Sir John said, “that I much regret disturbing you at such an unseemly hour. Listen to me, Thames. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. Arrived at the audience-chamber, he set down the light upon a stand, threw open the door, and announced in a loud voice, but with the perfect intonation of the person he represented,—"Sir Rowland Trenchard. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. Her father, Bartolomeo, was a well-respected member of the Arte di Calimala: the Wool Makers Guild in Mantua. A distant suggestion of chalets and a glimpse of the road set them talking for a time of the world they had left behind.
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