“It’s very late. "You hay'n't hurt your arm, I trust, my dear?" he added, anxiously. But the love of life prevailed over his fears. 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. “It’s something that bothers me. ’ Relaxing back, Gerald folded his arms. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked.
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