It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. To his relief, she nodded. In the circles into which he had been born, the passing on of land was of vital importance. Spurling bit her lips to conceal her mirth. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. A dozen shynesses and intellectual barriers were being outflanked or broken down in her mind. It seemed older than Rome, and the stone covering it gave resistance. She was emerging from the primordial as Spurlock was declining toward it.
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