It was very good soup, and as he was rather tired and hungry, he
enjoyed it. Then Timmy got up and removed the cup and its cover; and
suddenly the guest became aware that only four people at the table had
taken soup--himself, Mr. Tosswill, Jack, and Timmy. What an odd thing!
They were all rather silent, and Radmore began to have a strange, uncanny
feeling that none of them could see him, that he was a wraith, projected
out of the past into the present. It was a novel and most disconcerting
sensation. But no one glancing at his keen face, now illumined with a
half humorous expression of interest, would have guessed the mixed and
painful feelings which possessed him.
He stole a look to his left. Janet, in his eyes, was almost unchanged. Of
course she looked a thought older, a thought thicker--not so much in her
upright figure, as in her clever, irregular-featured face. In the days of
his early manhood she had never seemed to him to be very much older than
himself--but now she looked a lifetime older than he felt.
Only Mr. Tosswill looked absolutely unchanged. His mild benevolent face,
his deep blue eyes, his grey hair, seemed exactly the same as when
Radmore had last sat down, in the Old Place dining-room, to a full table.
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